A Prolonged Encounter
by TheGreySpecies
Summary: James has long since yearned to meet his father and when, at last, he gets the chance to, his father leaves. James then gathers his courage and treads out to find him, while simultaneously, struggling to prevent the dam from crumbling. - Cannon Pairings
1. Chapter 1

**A Prolonged Encounter: Chapter One**

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I still don't own Hawwy Pawter. If I did, he would be chained up, and he'd be foweveh mine! ;) (I'm a sap, I know)

Anyhow, sincere apologizes to my readers. I must admit I've been hibernating, but I just had a dramatic change in my life that I had to adapt to. But nevertheless, welcome me back. :) M'kay, I dunno how to tell you this, but dis story shall be a couple of chapters long, and there was no inspiration, no dawning realization, nada. I dunno why I wrote this, but I'm rambling here, so meet me at the end of the journey (or story).

Have a snack. And enjoy!

* * *

Upon his return, James Sirius Potter found himself tucked into a warm cocoon of longing and protection. Usually, James would have protested to being treated akin to a child, but since fate had chosen for him to relive his childhood experience, he might as well take advantage of it.

Consequently, he found himself in his mother's arms, cuddled in her fierce embrace.

With fierce confidence, he would undoubtedly admit to anyone who asked that he had missed her when she had gone. Typically, he was a mother's boy through and through, and even his other siblings' teasing could not assuage his utter audacity at the statement.

He convinced himself that he did not care if the room they were in was filled to the brink and that other females in the room were watching them with adoration in their eyes. He had just missed his mother, missed her fierce embrace, her light teasing, her humor, her fiery red hair, and her blazing brown eyes. One year away from her was like decades, and he had been without her for twenty six years.

Twenty six years. Those years were endured with forced courage, persistent courage.

But now, she was here, and yet, despite his reluctance to tear himself away from her, he could feel himself become distressingly impatient.

Where was he?

After James had finished emptying the waterfall of his tears, he had asked his mother countless times for the whereabouts of the famous Harry Potter, yet the typical reply from everyone was simply that they were ignorant of his whereabouts. His mother had informed him that Harry always found a new place to explore, causing everyone – including his own wife – to stutter at the response.

He had been told that his father was simply a man who disliked staying indoors.

Frustrated with the wait, James buried his face into his mother's warm shoulder and growled. He wanted to meet his father so bad . . . he had heard countless stories from his aunts, uncles, teachers, and mother, about the adventures that his father had went through, and even that didn't suffice. He had heard of the unique person that his father was – of his generosity, of his courage, of his kindness, but James wanted to see all that for himself. Furthermore, he wanted to see the smaller things, things that others would consider insignificant. Things like his parents got along, if they shared anything in common, or what kind of humor his father had.

He must've been good company for his uncle Ron to extol him as his best man. James knew that his godfather particularly enjoyed the company of people who knew how to have fun. James had personally witnessed how subdued Ron became when he expected someone to elaborate his joke for him. He supposed that Ron had occasionally forgotten that his best mate had passed away.

Now, James cursed his father for making him wait. He wondered if his father knew that one of his children was here.

"James?"

It was his mother.

He felt one of her skilled Quidditch hands thread through the contour of his untidy raven head as she softly repeated his name, wary of dragging the attention of others onto them. Lifting his head, James's unusually solemn eyes rose up to meet her sympathetic identical ones. After all, if there was one thing he was sure to have shared with his father was the phrase that he looked eerily like his father, but had his mother's eyes.

"He'll be here, don't worry. You're going to meet him eventually," Ginny whispered softly, tilting her head down to meet her son's eyes. In return, James ducked his head, pouted, and proceeded to toy with his mother's fingers using both of his hands. It looked like he had inherited his mother's rough hands, after all. They intertwined as twins, two pearls from the same oyster.

Interesting, that was something he had never noticed when he was alive.

But then, he had always taken her for granted.

"I know – it's just –" James bit his lip as he endeavored to voice his feelings, but it seemed the fuel had exhausted. He groaned in frustration as he heard his mother chuckle softly at his impatience. And to his utmost dismay, he felt his eyes fill up to the brink and it took all his willpower to stifle them.

Naturally, they did not go unseen by his mother.

Ginny felt her heart crumble into ashes as she caught sight of her son's longing. She knew that all three of her children cherished those stories about the gallant Harry Potter. They had grown up hearing his name as a hero. To them, it seemed that everyone knew what a remarkable person their father was except his own children.

Funny how they had grown up the same way she had when she had been younger, hearing the stories of her brother's best friend, and she fully empathized with her son's impatience.

She elicited a small tsk and met foreheads with her son as she drew his chin up to meet his watery eyes. "You know something?" Ginny said quietly, brushing salty tears away from his cheeks, "I think Grandmum Potter's calling you over. Reckon you could go greet her?"

She directed his slightly blurred line of vision towards the kitchen door where, indeed, his father's mother stood, beckoning him towards her. He forced a small smile and watched as her elegant countenance morphed slightly forlorn at the sight of his tears. Nevertheless, she smiled back sympathetically, and he couldn't help but wonder that no one had ever emphasized what an interesting person Lily Evans Potter was. Like Teddy's father, Lily also seemed to understand people with only the sight of their features, which James thought was incredible.

He whirled around to meet his mother's encouraging smile as she gently nudged him towards his Gran. He nodded, and with a final peck to the forehead, Ginny reluctantly released him, proud that her son had finally found the courage to let go. At least – she promised herself – for now, and she had to bite back a smirk as she turned to chat with Hermione.

Meanwhile, James found himself padding towards his grandmother as she smiled humanely before leading him towards the kitchen. He could see that she was alone, cleaning up any last minute strays, with Molly checking up on her every once in a while, asking her if she required any assistance – with her, of course, kindly refusing.

"Cocoa or Tea?" Lily asked, guiding him towards a serene fireplace where two armchairs were placed. James smiled and answered, "Cocoa, please."

Her green eyes twinkled merrily as she nodded and began bustling around the kitchen as James moved towards an armchair, struggling to contain his excitement at the sight of his dad's parents, even if it was only one of them. Their sacrifice for their son was well-renowned, and he admired their courage and love. Seeing them front-view first fueled that admiration.

However, with the intention of sitting down, James noticed a stray cloth tossed carelessly onto the armchair he had chosen to sit on. His eyebrows furrowed heavily as he noticed that it looked eerily familiar. He reached out to touch it and gasped loudly when he realized what it was.

"James? Are you alright?" James could hear Lily's concerned tone shuffle closer to him, and when she got close enough, he looked up at her in awe.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak!" James exclaimed, grinning widely at his grandmother and she couldn't help but smile at the sight.

James knew that Harry had inherited the Cloak from his father before him, and it had been shared with all the three of the Potter children when Harry had passed.

But now, James was holding one right in his hand.

He watched as Lily sighed and shook her head disappointedly as she explained, "I keep having to tell Harry to place it somewhere in his room," and James smiled at the sight of her pout, "but he always forgets."

"So it's Dad's, then?" James asked wondrously. Lily nodded slowly before pinning him with a piercing look, as if she was struggling to imprint him in her memory, causing him to fidget slightly. Then, she composed herself and smiled lovingly, saying softly, "I still find it strange that he's married and has three children. He always looks far too young for my liking."

"I reckon I've heard that from every Mum," he responded jokingly, peering up with mischief in his eyes. In return, she chuckled softly as she reached out to ruffle his hair.

"I won't deny it," she said as she reoccupied her position and James laughed as he finally took a seat, holding the Invisibility Cloak religiously. He had always found it as a responsibility to caution around the Cloak. After all, he had heard how much his father had enjoyed it. With that, he felt ever closer to his father.

"Well, go on, I'm curious," Lily's gentle voice drifted towards him while James simply watched as she leaned against a countertop, stirring the cocoa in the pot, "Did you live up to the mischief of your blessed namesakes, or were you deprived from it?" Her eyes held a mischievous gleam and James's fear of awkwardness completely vanished as he moved to make himself comfortable.

He leaned back in his father's armchair, feeling entirely at home with the teasing smell of the cocoa drifting towards him, the soft yellow beam of the lights, the spacious kitchen, and her soothing voice. No wonder Harry liked to sit here.

"Naw," James shook his head and feigned an innocent look, "I was a good boy, just ask Mum."

She was now pouring the cocoa into two mugs. "Really?" and James bit his cheek to keep himself from smiling. He concluded that he liked Lily as a person, not only as a Gran, "Well – _I _think you're being modest."

"How, if I may ask?" James mocked, bowing his head mischievously, causing her to grin, and he couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked when she smiled. She then approached him with a slight raise in an auburn eyebrow as she handed him his token and took a seat across from him, sipping on her own mug before responding.

"Well, from what _I've _heard from said Mum," she said with a small hum, peering downwards at her mug, and circling the surface with her graceful thumb, "was that you could be as _good_ as a Marauder." Her eyes then peered up expectedly at him, and he noticed that she had a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Well, I am the grandson of a Marauder," James replied obviously, mirth in his tone. Lily then laughed as he shook his head disappointedly at her, enjoying the distraction from the tedious wait for his dad.

"Right. How ever could I have forgotten?" Lily shook her head exaggeratedly before shifting her attention towards the fireplace, and to James's delight, she still bore a smile.

He loved bringing joy to others, even if he was feeling utterly dreadful at the moment. He knew that happiness was contagious and that if others were happy, then he could be happy too. That thought was born from his time as a child to when he became an adult, and he had continued on that route, until he found himself here.

They both fell into a comfortable silence, each occasionally sipping on their mug as they gazed into the stories of the fireplace. To James, gazing at fireplaces was like gazing at clouds, imagining a creature, a person, or even a place in the flames. He can't seem to get rid of his childhood. Perhaps he was simply a child at heart.

James startled out of his trance when he heard a soft pecking coming from somewhere. He wondered if the lump at the back of his throat was simply the new residence of his heart, as he struggled to voice his theory, "Is that – ?"

He unintentionally caught Lily's attention as she too heard the noise. She slapped a hand to her forehead as she stood and walked towards a window in the corner of the room, muttering, "Oh. Had nearly slipped my mind, that one."

James merely remained in his seat, swallowing the disappointment away. He had hoped that the tapping had signified Harry's arrival, and James forced the lump away as Lily emerged once more. With his father being only a couple of miles away intrigued James. Hence, the reason why he struggled to keep his emotions at bay.

Lily, however, seemed to have other company.

"I asked Harry if I could borrow her for the evening," she edged ever closer, nodding towards the company, chuckling as she did, "My mum's not quite known for her patience."

James's brown eyes widened to the point where his eyelids protested at being stretched so much, for resting on Lily's arm was an intelligent snowy owl, blinking its wide amber eyes at him. Its eyes bore a child's sense of wonder, yet James could think no more. He simply studied her with mutual wonder.

"Would you like to hold her?" Lily suddenly asked, breaking his trance, and without waiting for an answer, she crouched down to his level, and leveled her arm with his until the owl – after a moment of hesitance – hopped onto the latter's arm, peering up at him in – what seemed to James – as confusion.

"Is that – I mean – is this – ?" James stuttered, attempting to clear his thoughts. He discreetly reached for the owl that was ever-so-familiar, and he knew exactly who it was from the stories and pictures that he had known, "Hedwig." He breathed, and the owl hooted happily as it finally permitted him to stroke her.

Lily hummed in confirmation, and while still crouched on the floor, folded her arms on the table, rested her chin onto them, and observed them, and James nearly chuckled. Her actions reminded him of his Lily, the one he had left behind, and a pang to the chest greeted him at the dismal thought.

"I think she's confused, don't you think?" she asked in a quiet tone, wary of breaking the moment. James, in turn, peered at her with a bemused curl of his lip, "Er – yeah, she does look like it. A bit, I mean."

"I've never seen her stare at anyone for so long," she murmured, bringing her hand forward to stroke the subject in question, and James envied her astute observation. She had a natural talent, it seemed, "I s'pose it's because you look so much like him." She then elicited a tremulous smile.

"I've heard loads of people tell that to Albus," James imitated a face, causing Lily to smile. Nevertheless, he felt the usual spark of pride erupt in his chest at the comment, "Not so much for me. Just the usual 'you look so much like your father, but you've got your mum's eyes'."

"Well – then, I'm happy to be one of the few," she tapped his nose, chuckling as he playfully batted her hands away, "and you aren't alone in your complaining. You should hear Harry."

"So I've heard," James muttered, cursing his father once more, and he hadn't even _met _him yet and the conflict had already started. He startled as he heard Hedwig hoot once more, nip his finger affectionately, and fly towards the open door – to where, James supposed, was her cage or something.

"Speaking of my _punctual _son," James's grin widened as Lily craned her neck to eye the clock with narrowed eyes. His dad was going to get it, "It's nearly dark and he still hasn't arrived yet."

He watched admirably as she stood up, and James almost chuckled as he recalled the phrase that Fred, his partner-in-crime and cousin, had commented on mothers, "Stay away from an angry mother hen. She bites, even if she hasn't got any teeth."

And here was a mother who had exchanged her own _life _for her son.

Harry was lucky he was already a dead man.

"Is he always this late?" James asked. He watched in awe as she conjured the doe patronus and set it free, allowing it to prance off to find its fawn.

Lily pouted as she exaggeratedly threw herself back onto the armchair, blowing an audible breath, "All the time. And when I lecture him for it, he'll apologize one day and the next day – "

"He's out the door," James chuckled as he finished for her, knowing the game all too well. After all, he had kids for himself, and, being – well, 'the grandson of a Marauder', he, himself, had played the game many times.

Lily sighed.

"Unfortunately."

"My sister Lily and I are about the same," James said, staring fixedly at the flickering flames as the memories drowned his vision, "We don't like staying in the house either." He shrugged, and turned towards her to find her staring intently at him and listening without interruption.

She looked genuinely interested and eager to hear more about her grandkids so James began the story of him and his siblings as she smiled, gasped, and chuckled. He told her about how he struggled to take the responsibility of the family, how curious and quiet his brother Albus was, and how mischievous and reckless Lily could be. He realized he liked talking to her. She hardly interrupted and seemed eager to hear him out, not complaining about the wasted time at all. The atmosphere simply begged for quiet moments like this and he relished in it.

At least, until he felt himself become dangerously somnolent, and the sun was only halfway setting.

"Aw, looks like someone's getting drowsy," Lily teased, finally breaking her vow to remain as quiet as a rabbit so she could hear the full story. But, she noticed, that her grandson didn't seem to mind her questions, "Don't sleep now, I've got a job for you to do. If you're up to it, that is." She glanced worriedly at him.

James, in turn, shook his head to rid himself of lethargy before peering confusedly at her, asking, "Job? What job?"

She was looking concernedly as she eyed his struggle to remain composed, "Are you sure?"

"I suppo – "

But James was interrupted by a bright light suddenly consuming the room, and both Lily and James turned their attention to their new visitor as it pranced towards Lily, who – James noticed – was looking fondly at it. It was a full corporeal stag. It was both magnificent and graceful, it's antlers bowed towards the doe owner, and James wondered in awe that the patronuses indicated that the family was closer than ever. In other words, the doe had found its fawn.

This was Harry's patronus.

They both watched as the stag opened its mouth and spoke, "Sorry for being late, Mum. Ran into a few delays, I'll explain later. Be back in half an hour." And the stag knelt down to rest its head on one of its legs, closed its eyes, and after a wild moment of thinking it had fallen asleep, it had slowly faded away, leaving nothing but silence.

What a show.

"That was – " James struggled to find the word for it, finally settling with, "brilliant."

"It is, isn't it?" Lily agreed quietly, obviously deep in her thoughts. Shaking her head, she snapped her head out of her thoughts and turned towards James, and he could find an overwhelming amount of love in her eyes. He supposed that the stag had touched her deeply, and he couldn't really blame her. The stag was visual proof of Harry's love for both of his parents, "Well, there's your exit."

It took James a moment to comprehend what she had just said. Her tone was one of a matter-of-fact, "What?"

He watched confusedly as she stood up, and with a twinkle in her eyes, disappeared down the hall, leaving James alone to ponder the situation. What did she mean? No sooner had she left had she arrived once again, and James noticed that she was holding a coat and winter robes that looked just his size in her arms. Still bewildered, James watched dumbly as she beckoned him towards the center of the room, not responding. He was so confused.

Rolling her eyes amusedly, Lily came towards him, grabbed one of his small hands and brought him towards the center of the room. Without a word, she first tucked him into a black winter coat, with him subconsciously assisting, and while she buttoned it up, she explained, "These were Harry's when he was about your size, but he grew out of them, eventually. He hated being small," still engrossed in her task, she smiled fondly, "Everyone first arrives small, I know I was once. I suppose it's a way of saying restart your life. Make it a happier one," he was listening intently as she now drenched him in the black winter robes, buttoning it up in a similar manner as the coat, "But he was so tiny and adorable, then. I wish he'd stayed like that."

James couldn't help but elicit a laugh at the sight of her dreamy expression. He had tried to stifle it, but it only doubled as she tossed a half-glare at him, stating defensively, "Well, he was, if he hadn't been sulking half the time." She rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"Sulking?" James asked surprisingly, still shaking with laughter, watching as Lily finished her task by draping a cloak around his shoulder, fastening the strap, and smoothing out the wrinkles. She then finished it off with a bright green scarf that James instinctively knew was Harry's. After all, he had heard how much his grandmother Weasley had loved to liven the color of his eyes, but he didn't interrupt Lily, for he knew she was in full-mother mode, "Really?"

"Mmhm," Lily confirmed, silently critiquing her work, and finally lifting her green eyes to meet his brown ones, looking unexpectedly solemn, "But I s'pose you would have liked to figure that out for yourself, wouldn't you?" and James couldn't hold her gaze anymore; instead, he studied the floor beneath his feet, inexplicably wondering if Lily was an unregistered Legilmens, "James?" she lifted his chin to meet his eyes and smiled sadly as she eyed his stifled tears.

Throughout his entire life, James had always played the role of the valiant and strong older brother – next to Teddy. No one had ever seen him for his weaknesses or for the tight cuffs around his emotions. No one except his mother. He knew it was primarily his fault for exposing his true self to no one but his mother, but he had always feared vulnerability. And so, he had allowed his younger siblings to shed their tears and confessions while he played the gaping fatherly role. But now, he realized, it had left him broken and exhausted.

However, he didn't know why, but he felt comfortable in shedding his skin in front of his grandmum. Perhaps because he knew she wouldn't rattle on him.

And so, with a shaking breath, he painfully whispered with his eyes still downcast, "D'you think he'll be proud of me?" He knew it was something Albus would say, but he desperately wanted to know. After all, he had played the father role. He had felt like he had been assuaging Harry's guilt for leaving his family. If there was one thing everyone had agreed on, it was that Harry would be characteristically grieve-stricken, and so, James had found the courage to continue his role, if only for his dad to rest in peace.

"Let's see," she murmured quietly, as if wary of chasing the silence away. She was fussing over an imaginary wrinkle on his scarf, and James found himself hanging onto her every word, "Towards a son who supported his family, a son who's kind, giving, and _mischievous_, bless you," she emphasized with a pointed look, causing James to chuckle slightly, "There's no doubt in my mind why he wouldn't be. He's not that hard to please, you know." She finished quietly, gracefully tucking a jet-black lock behind his ear.

James nodded, pondered for a moment before peeking up at her, finally grasping her intentions, "How will I find him?" She merely smiled enigmatically, tapped him on the chest, and said, "You'll know."

After a moment of hesitance, James nodded and stepped forward to embrace his gran, feeling an overwhelming amount of fondness towards her. He was looking forward to spending more time with her in the future, "Thanks, Gran."

She tightened her embrace for a moment before pulling away, and with a jolt, James could see that her eyes were somewhat teary, "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now go on, and good luck. And be sure to give him a lecture for me, will you?"

James opened the back door to the kitchen and turned towards her with a trademark grin, "I will." With one last wave, James stepped outside and greeted the outdoors.

* * *

**A/N: **Confused? Yeah, I'm sorry, but I promise, if you don't figure it out by the time I finish this story, then just ask and I'll happily respond. Anyhow, thanks for reading and please, please . . .

**xxXReviewXxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Prolonged Encounter: Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer**: I own nada, not even you. O.o (Hah)

Velcome back. Please step through these dreary gates, and say hi to me story. Oh - side note - dun get used to daily update cuz - er - vell, after dis chapter, I'm still writing, finished planning, but yeah, still writing. And 'm a bloody perfectionist so . . .

Good morning!

* * *

_She tightened her embrace for a moment before pulling away, and with a jolt, James could see that her eyes were somewhat teary, "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now go on, and good luck. And be sure to give him a lecture for me, will you?"_

_James opened the back door to the kitchen and turned towards her with a trademark grin, "I will." With one last wave, James stepped outside and greeted the outdoors._

* * *

As soon as he stepped outside, he noticed that – like the Burrow – the Potter manor had a vast outdoors, albeit a bit neater. He chuckled as he thought – of course, with two Quidditch fanatics, and one of them being James Potter the first, he could imagine that Harry and his father would occasionally thrive in the space. He supposed that the father and son moments happened here, as both seemed to crave the fresh air.

However, there was nothing fresh about it now.

The grounds were – in respect to winter – permeated with cotton clouds. Every corner of the yard was stuffed with snow. The sky was raining softly with snowflakes and snow, wary of overwhelming the area with its presence. There was nothing dreary about its presence; in fact, the snow enhanced the boy's excitement. Days like these, James and his cousins would be outdoors, quarreling in a snowball fight. The space virtually demanded it, but James had a goal to obtain. And so, he cast the thought aside, blew out an expected breath, and began his journey starting from the fringe of a forest situated at the back of the house.

He honestly didn't know where he was going, but he could faultlessly insinuate that Lily had meant that he should place utmost confidence in himself. He supposed – from his area of experience – that it was somewhat akin to how a deluminator functioned.

He knew that all he currently desired was to meet his father, at last.

However, there was a slight situation as James adjusted his winter robes with obvious irritation. He was _far _too small. He hadn't been entirely in tune with his body when he had first arrived, but now, he noticed that his fingers were far too tiny, and his frame far too thin. He even attempted to stride to speed up the time but could only stretch his legs a fourth of what he could as an adult.

He had been too entangled with his emotions to even begin to think about anything else when he had first arrived, for the first person to greet him was his mother and she had looked so _young_. He immediately recognized her due to her trademark red hair and blazing eyes. They were his, after all. And thanks to her, he was then introduced to almost the entire family, the ones he had already known, the ones he had missed, and the ones he didn't know.

But he had to admit, the most interesting person was his own namesake: James Potter.

James had felt like he was looking at his twin when his grandfather had burst in with a mischievous grin and apparent excitement. He had just returned from (dubbed by him) "the prank of the century" when James had met him. He was a bundle of energy, but James could swiftly spot the difference between himself and his grandfather. His granddad seemed a bit formidable with his speech and stance. He also seemed (if one was looking) a natural charmer and his marriage seemed to have placed a balm on his arrogance that was still ever-present. However, James was aware that it was primarily used for humor purposes.

However, with guilt, James admitted, that he had not greeted them wholeheartedly at all. He had well-mannerly shaken the men's hands and embraced the women with only half a heart, for his eyes had been frequently darting to every corner of the manor for the one person that James had yearned for the most.

He wanted to know more than that his father was famous. He wanted to know more than that Albus eerily resembled his father. He wanted to know more than what his professors accolade his father as a brave and casual person. Everyone would emphasize how Harry had longed for a normal life and how there was nothing that anyone would label as abnormally extraordinary about him. He was simply normal, they would say.

But James thought otherwise.

James thought his father was extraordinary because – however much the world, Voldemort, the students, and teachers had tried to change him – he had still remained his true self and didn't let anything affect him, not his past, not the people. His father had proved that goodness comes from self-determination, and James knew that that had been what had distinguished his father from Voldemort. They had both experienced the same rough past, yet one had emerged good, and the other merely evil. That was why Harry had emerged victorious, and James elicited a small smile and grew ever-eager to meet his dad.

And so, he treaded over fallen branches, stumbled on some, and ducked under others as he continued. The trees reminded him of the Forbidden Forest, and he irresistibly wondered if he was heading towards Hogwarts. After all, there were various activities for his father to explore. James furrowed his eyebrows and cursed his tiny frame once more; he was getting slowed down. But how old was he, anyway? He must be around five or six.

The thought caused him to scowl as he recalled his reunion with Teddy, who was halfway through his teens, who had laughed and embraced him as he teased him for his somewhat "chubby" cheeks. James wrinkled his nose at the thought, but he had to admit, he _had _missed Teddy, for he was his older brother in all but blood. He had always been close to Teddy, who – much to James's envy – had been exceptionally close to Harry, and who had had a chance to remember him before Harry had passed away.

Harry James Potter had passed away a short while after his wife had given birth to their last child: Lily. Ginny had often asked James if he could remember anything – even a small blur – about his father, for James had been nearly four at the time, but James didn't have the best memory; consequently, he could not remember him, however much he forced himself to.

However, he would always, after a particularly tiresome day, crawl into bed and simply watch his father smile from a picture that his mother had graciously given him, with Ron and Hermione on either side. The sight would lull him to sleep after a particularly dreary day.

And speaking of sleep, James yawned as he approached a small circumference where the trees could not follow him. He could feel himself becoming dangerously drowsy, but he felt it was the least he could do compared to what James had heard his father had done. Camping out during a war. Honestly. Where was the food, the security, the protection?

Now, alone in an secluded area, James allowed a few tears free and wondered what he'll say when he finally met his father. He hoped his father was as laid-back as his parents or as funny as Ron. He hoped he wasn't as strict as Percy, instead, as gentle as Lily. Moreover, James was tired of predicting, he wanted solidity, he wanted –

_Thump_.

James collided into something tall. He rubbed his head after the collision, thinking he had ran into a tree. He impulsively wondered if Teddy's clumsiness was contagious until he heard a deep voice mutter excessive amount of apologizes, and James realized he had bumped into someone.

"Sorry, 'm sorry," the person – the _man _– apologized, sounding exceptionally genuine, "I was – er – distracted. Sorry."

James couldn't help but feel a bit amused. The man was virtually on his hands and knees, begging for his forgiveness, and James, with a slight crinkle at the edge of his eyes, peered up at the man, and the first thing he noticed was that the man was _tall_. James didn't know if he should be blaming it on his own height or the man was naturally tall. He concluded that it was the latter. The man looked a few inches shorter than James's uncle Ron.

The man was clearly a wizard, for he was wearing a comfortable set of black winter robes, clashing interestingly with his hair, which was as dark as coal. The man was bespectacled and had a bottle green scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, but he didn't give the impression that James's uncle Percy would. His uncle radiated an aura of austerity; this man, however, gave the impression of being extremely laid-back, and James supposed, bore an air of nervousness as well. Also, the man – much to James's amusement – was wearing a grey French hat that significantly shaded his eyes. He thought it looked a bit ridiculous, especially when the man's accent clearly screamed British.

But James could not help but notice that the man was _thin_. James wasn't an expert but the man leaned a bit towards the unhealthy side. Not to mention, the man's pale countenance blended queerly with the background perspective of the snow. His hat – James noticed – was sprinkled with snow, indicating that the man had been traveling for quite a while. He was currently rubbing the back of his head in shame at being so absentminded. He also noticed that the man was young; James inferred that he was somewhere in his early twenties, but James guessed that age didn't really matter in this life.

Using the back of a fist, James wiped the spare tears away from his face and felt his ears burn with embarrassment. Honestly, here he was weeping in front of a stranger – a man, who, despite his peculiarly thin frame, looked exceptionally strong.

"It's fine," James's voice wavered as he fought to explain; he really was a mess. Sniffing, he tried again, "I was just – " He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts, and through his peripheral vision, he could see that the man had abruptly dropped his hand, causing James to peer up at him confusedly. He hoped that his eyes weren't bloodshot red.

But from under the man's hat, James noticed that his eyebrows furrowed worriedly, and akin to Lily, pinned with a studious look, as if he was desperately trying to find an answer to something, as he asked in a quiet tone. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"What? No!" James exclaimed convincingly, hastily shaking his head. How could he think James's tears was his fault? If anyone was to blame, it was his father, "'Course not. Why would you think that?"

The man shuffled on his feet – and James noticed that he was wearing black dragon-hide boots – as he responded. "Well – I –" and he averted his eyes for a moment before peering back at the boy, "You're crying." And James chuckled thickly at the blunt answer.

Wiping the remaining tears away using the sleeve of his robes, James convinced himself that the tears had exhausted, determined to stifle them from now on, and at last responded. "Sorry. I was – I was just – looking for my dad, and – I – " And he didn't even know why he was telling him this, but he did, anyway.

"You're not lost, are you? I can take you back if you'd like." James snapped his head up at the generous offer, despite his dismay being misinterpreted. He was surprised to find him so close, almost an arm's length, for the bespectacled man had knelt down on one knee to fully meet the boy's eyes, and James felt as if his heart would explode in his chest. He could hardly breathe.

He wondered if his heart was desperate to flee from its opaque prison, for James – for one fleeting second – had thought he was looking into the countenance of his brother Albus, but his rational side had reeled him back to reality, for there were a few errors in the features, but the distinct one being the black wire-rimmed, round glasses that were framing a pair of familiar almond-shaped green eyes, and they were peering at him with such _concern_.

He really did have his mother's eyes, and he did look eerily like his father. Now, James was confident that he was staring at Harry James Potter.

His father.

It was a shame, really, that the hat prevented James from seeing his full features. He also noticed – with poorly concealed delight – that his dad's hair was as untidy as his father's and sons'. With the greatest strength James could conjure, he prevented himself from jumping into his father's arms and ridding himself of any shame and embarrassment by finishing his tears. It hurt to see that he could do it right there and then, but he didn't think Harry knew that his son was standing directly in front of him, and James knew – from his father's expression and the hat – that his dad feared that he would be recognized as the famous Harry Potter, so James stomped on his feelings – for now.

He snapped out of his daze when he felt a firm hand grasp his left forearm, realizing – all too late – that he had been staring at his dad for far too long, causing his father to grow a bit uncomfortable. Consequently, James had forgotten to answer his question, but Harry had already spoken.

"I won't hurt you." And James elicited a small watery smile as Harry adopted an expression of determination that James would have trusted immediately had they really been strangers.

James nodded slowly, drew in a shaky breath, and with a valiant effort, whispered softly, "Alright." His young age made it harder to control his emotions, but Harry just looked so genuine and so eager to help that James finally found himself admiring his generosity.

He thought James was a stranger, and yet, he still seemed eager to smooth out his dilemmas. James knew it wasn't merely because he was a small boy. He intuited that his father was simply generous at heart, like Lily, and that was one of the things that James had yearned to see.

Harry returned the smile, and it was so comforting and familiar to the smile that lulled James to sleep during stressful times, that James had to bite his lip to stifle its trembling. He watched as his father pierced him with another studious look before standing up, catching James slightly off-guard.

"Right. So . . . " Harry began with a slight shift in his feet, looking oddly troubled for a moment. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts before holding out his hand towards the boy, and James looked up in surprise, "I'm Harry." He smiled nervously, and James couldn't stifle a half-sob and half-laugh at the sight.

He just looked so – _timid_. And after all the wars, all the Auror missions, and all the fame, he still had the grace to emerge _normal_, which greatly intrigued James. The smile on his countenance was never one that James had envisioned for his father. He had always had the suspicion that the fame might have affected him, because he believed that humans weren't all perfect, and his father was human, but seeing him now only increased James's admiration for him. He really was extraordinary.

"I'm – " and after an internal quarrel, he concluded that he wanted to test how good Harry was at piecing riddles together. Was he as good as Robards said he was? "Jaime." He reached out to shake his father's hand.

His hand – he noticed – virtually disappeared as his father enfolded his hand into his. The hand-shake was firm and swift, and James inexplicably remembered that his father had been a Seeker. James found himself comparing his mother's hand to his dad's.

"Alright, Jaime," Harry acknowledged by nodding his head, and James nodded back with a gleam in his eyes, "Care to tell me where you live?" He gently nudged the boy's back to begin walking, and James noticed that his father had his eyes fixed on the trail leading home. James struggled to listen to what he was saying, but he was too engrossed in the thought that he was having a full conversation with his _father _– unbeknownst to Harry.

He was too immersed in listening to his father's voice. He had never imagined that his voice would be so quiet and gentle, posing no threat despite his history with Voldemort. Of course, he had heard of his dad's infamous temper and had related it back to his voice, but it didn't seem to affect Harry in the slightest. His dad sounded calm but curious, possessing a touch of concern as well. James also noticed that his fixed attention to the road was possibly the result of being an Auror or being hunted down for his entire life. His voice was so soothing that James thought he could fall asleep just listening to him speaking.

"Er – " James – yet again – cursed his short attention span. He didn't want his father to think stupid of him because he kept forgetting to answer his questions, "Oh – Godric's Hallow." He said swiftly, after a moment. James felt the first genuine smile fighting to break free as he gave his father the first hint.

"Godric's Hallow?" Harry asked in surprise, finally tearing his eyes off the road to look towards the boy. James noticed that he was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and wonder, and if James was honest, he did look a bit troubled as well – _confused _for better diction. "Funny, that's where I'm headed, too." And he returned his attention to the road – James noticed with a mischievous gleam in his eyes – with a furrow in his eyebrows. He was probably in the middle of brainstorming.

James chuckled quietly. His dad really was an open book like Ginny said he was.

But as much as Harry was curious, James needed some confirmation. "Can I ask you a question?" And when Harry responded, James could tell that he was only half-listening.

"Sure."

James struggled to sugarcoat his words, in an attempt to make it less blunt, but failed miserably. "Are you – Harry?" he tilted his head to gain a better look at his dad's expression, "Harry _Potter_?"

Harry stopped so abruptly that James had to backtrack back to his father's side, biting his lip. He really hoped that Harry wouldn't abandon him in fear that someone had recognized for who he was, but his dad was merely standing with his head bowed towards the ground, and from under his hat, his shaded eyes were wide open. James had strain his ears to hear his murmuring. "If I tell you, you'll swear you won't tell a _soul_?"

"I swear," James said genuinely. Of course he won't rant on his dad; he desperately wanted his trust. He wanted his dad to know who he was, but simultaneously, he didn't – not now, anyway.

He watched amusedly as an agitated Harry ran a hand through his hair from under his hat, caught the hat with his other hand, and tilted it in a mock salute gesture, smiling grimly all the same. "Harry Potter, the one and only." He said sarcastically, causing James to grin and giggle slightly. His father really despised the spotlight.

Harry smiled grudgingly in return before slamming the hat back onto his head.

It was interesting to see another side of Harry he hadn't known about.

"I knew that," James shook his head at how stupid the question sounded, but was slightly taken aback as he spotted his father's frown. Oh, Merlin, what had he said wrong? "Been stalking me, have you? Don't think I've ever arrested you before."

James blinked dumbly as he spotted his dad's narrowed eyes but his lips were twitching, foreshadowing a smile, and it moment for James to realize that his father was being sarcastic again. Hence, the reference back to his job. But if his father wanted to play, then he'd play, too.

"I only recognized you because of the hat. It was a dead giveaway," James gestured to his head while Harry peeked up the subject in question, rendering him slightly cross-eyed, and James nearly laughed at the sight, "And your mum." James smirked, but he knew his heart was internally skipping with delight. His dad was better than he had imagined him to be.

However, he didn't think he'd get such a reaction out of his dad. His green eyes had widened dramatically and he was staring at James with a mixture of incredulity and admiration. Despite the ominous threat, he must've liked James's guts, "You've met my mum?"

James nodded and kicked some snow into the air in an effort to remain casual. "Yeah, she sent me looking for my dad," James glanced surreptitiously at his dad, hoping he didn't detect any foul-play, "She's nice." He added honestly, in an effort to assuage any suspicion. His father, however, was frowning again.

"Yeah, she is," Harry agreed quietly as they continued walking, sounding oddly distracted again and James hoped he could find some way to mitigate his worrying. But after a moment of internal quarrel from both father and son, Harry spoke again, "She's not . . . upset, is she? Do you know?"

James snapped his head up in surprise, a grin growing wide on his countenance as he noticed how much Lily's worrying upset Harry. Was his father a mother's boy as well? James decided he wanted to know.

Feigning a hum, James responded. "She might be." And that's all he offered.

James heard a loud scoff coming from his dad and he glanced towards him to find Harry staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Are you winding me up?"

"No! Why would I be?"

Harry merely raised an eyebrow. "I'm not getting any straight answers."

James sighed and decided to throw some coal into the flame. "Alright, she told me to lecture you."

His father lifted his hand up to run a hand through his hair which caused the hat to tip off slightly. Frustrated, it seemed, Harry abruptly removed it, at last exposing his full features. And Merlin, did Albus look so much like him, but Harry's muttering had interrupted James's thought process.

"I knew it." Harry stated, shaking his head and removing his glasses to rub at his eyes. He seemed to be muttering to himself, "I told her I was going to be late but – why are you laughing?" He placed the glasses back onto his nose and frowned at James, who was shaking with laughter.

"You're so upset!" James exclaimed and his giggles intensified as his father feigned a disgusted expression on his countenance. Yes, Harry was certainly a mother's boy.

"I'm not upset," Harry stated defensively, and for the first time since James had met him, a reluctant grin formed on his features, and with a jolt, James noticed that his dad had inherited his mother's smile. Lily's smile. And James's urge to run into his dad's protective embrace further intensified, but his pride seemed to overrule his judgment. He hoped his dad would recognize him soon.

"I don't even know why I brought you along," Harry said, shaking his head as if disappointed in himself while James's laughter significantly died down, but not entirely, "I should've just left you where I found you." He threw a mock-disapproving look at the mischievous boy.

James chuckled and decided to use his dad's words against him. "But I'm your stalker, remember? Wherever you go, I follow." And he tilted his head to the side to study his dad's expression, but Harry merely awarded him with an impressed look before shifting his attention back to the road, a smile tugging on his lips.

However, James – who had been blissfully buried in his thoughts – was oblivious to the hand that was slowly reaching towards him until it had tugged his head down slightly, and James couldn't help but laugh at the gesture as he waved it away.

It was such a typical father gesture that James irresistibly wondered if Harry had already caught on to his schemes, but chose to keep quiet, further frustrating the boy. He wondered if his dad was merely pranking the prankster, and James nearly snorted at the thought. If Harry really did know about his son then James would be so mad at him for not telling him sooner. The wait was at its highest peak, and James didn't know if could wait any longer. Nevertheless, James threw his father a mock-glare as Harry, in turn, smirked, looking eerily like his father, that James had to double back and remember who he was with.

However, with a sinking heart, James witnessed the smile fade from his father. Harry really had a knack of abrupt mood change – James noticed – but the atmosphere had been so light and carefree that James had wanted to envelop it in a secure area and never want to leave it again. Though, he noticed, that didn't seem to be the case, for his father had a slight furrow in his eyebrow. And for the first time since James had met him, a hard stare crossed his eyes, but thankfully, he wasn't directing it at James.

James instinctively knew he should stay silent until Harry finished mulling things over. He really didn't know what Harry was capable of when someone got on his bad side, and he decided, that he didn't want to find out, especially not when he first met him. James thought he would never have the courage to witness his dad's temper, not when it's directed at him. He thought – with shame – that he'd like to witness it directed at anyone else but him, and he felt like a coward at the thought.

But this was his _dad_, the person he had spent years yearning for. Of course he wouldn't want to get on his bad side. He didn't want his father leaving him. What son would?

Consequently, James vowed to stay silent, at least until he figured out what his father was truly capable of, despite his good humor. And until he figured out what caused Harry to look so troubled. James agreed to himself, that Harry simply cared too much. He inferred that he had been the cause of his father's hard stare.

* * *

**A/N:** Awww, my buddy Harry's back, and James is excited. Again, I dunno where dis story came from but please, please review, not even review, criticism is what I request. I vould like to know everything, starting from characterization, dialogue, to grammar and vocabulary. I'll crouch to my hands and knees if you like. (No I won't)

Vell, I have an exceptional attachment to dis story, unlike my others, and I hope that'll give me the motivation to keep writing. Oh, and happy Ramadan! :D Again . . .

**Review**. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A Prolonged Encounter: Chapter Three**

**Disclaimer**: I refuse to assuage your doubt. I dun have to repeat myself :p

Hello again! I told ya I'd be back soon. I've got a particular liking to this story, and when I start liking the story, I'm determined to finish it. And now, I shall halt my rambling, so take this key, and unlock your riches (if ya know what I'm hinting at).

And now, on wid de story!

* * *

_But this was his _dad_, the person he had spent years yearning for. Of course he wouldn't want to get on his bad side. He didn't want his father leaving him. What son would?_

_Consequently, James vowed to stay silent, at least until he figured out what his father was truly capable of, despite his good humor. And until he figured out what caused Harry to look so troubled. James agreed to himself, that Harry simply cared too much. He inferred that he had been the cause of his father's hard stare._

* * *

And after reluctantly enveloping the tense atmosphere for quite a while, James was thankful when Harry resolved the tension by speaking up again, and James guessed – with slight reluctance – that he ought to get used to these silences, primarily with Harry. "You . . . mentioned your dad?" Harry worded carefully, and James thought fondly, that Harry must really respect others' privacy, for his dad sounded ready to drop the entire subject, should James choose to do so.

James nodded, suspecting if that had been his Achilles' heel.

Awarded with no elaboration, Harry continued with successfully concealed hesitance, wary of overwhelming the boy with the thorny subject. "Er – you haven't found him yet, have you?"

James realized – with poorly concealed amusement – that his father asked immoderate amounts of questions, and James guessed that his dad had definitely beaten Albus's record. And the thought nearly caused him to chuckle, not a good thing when Harry was looking genuinely worried.

"Yeah, I found him," James said casually, throwing caution down the drain. He surrendered. He wanted his dad to know who he was, and James guessed that that had been the only subject holding him back.

Harry halted in his steps and turned to face the boy fully, peering at him with a mild frown before averting his eyes to study the road they had already treaded through. "He's not looking for you, is he?" And James bit his cheek to stifle his smile. He was being fastidiously studied by Harry, who was looking for any sign of longing from James. One wrong twitch of his eyebrow, and his dad would win.

"I don't think so," James shook his head and feigned a thoughtful expression as he reluctantly tore his eyes away from his dad's piercing stare to study a nearby tree, "He probably doesn't even know I exist."

Which was true, in a sense.

And James nearly winced as he reverted his gaze back onto his dad, who looked like he had been drenched in a block of ice. Harry looked downright appalled, and there was a hint of another expression – an abstruse expression – that posed difficult for James to grasp. He wasn't an expert at reading his dad's expressions, but he reckoned his dad looked a bit – suspicious?

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, his tone growing vehement at the apparent carelessness of the father. Despite the boy's gregarious persona, Harry certainly hadn't forgotten how doleful the lad had been when he had first stumbled into him, "He – he'll be worried . . ." Harry then turned towards the boy in – what seemed to James – as desperate confirmation, "Won't he?"

And James sincerely wanted to confirm that statement as he met eyes with his dad. In fact his father was, indeed, looking despairingly worried that James internally cursed himself for his stupid games. Out of all the times he chose to play around, this one had to be one of the worst. He felt such an immense amount of guilt that he thought he ought to drown in it. He had never known a person could feel so much concern for a _stranger_, and he was a stranger to his dad. His evidence would be that he had never seen such a gaze that could virtually burn a hole in his head, and he significantly shrank under it's radiance.

But James desperately wanted to ask _why_. Why was his dad so horrified at the idea of a father being ignorant towards his son's whereabouts? Was it because his dad sympathized in the thought of losing a father, or did his dad simply not believe that there could be someone who could detest their son?

But, of course, there were no answers.

"Well – he . . ." James's eyes rapidly darted to every corner of the forest for a visual answer, but, alas, he was on his own, and he didn't want to further worry his father, "he doesn't I'm here," James half-shrugged in a nervous manner, "so I s'pose he won't be _that _worried," James turned toward his father in confirmation, gratefully finding that Harry's concern had effaced into mild relief, "Right?" And he acutely hoped his father would answer, just for James's comfort. It seemed that Harry had merely misinterpreted his previous statement.

And Harry shrugged and tore his gaze away from James's eyes to peer towards the heavily snowy slope, and James suspected that he wasn't really looking at it. He looked so _lost_ that James wanted to reach out and comfort him in the simplest manner by sinking his hand into his father's and confessing everything, but just when he had built the will to accomplish the task, his dad had abruptly snapped out of his daze, and had muttered a hasty, "Come on."

And James ducked his head bashfully and didn't elicit a hoot as they continued their journey, and for the first time since he had met his dad, James found himself eager to return. He felt so penitent that he reckoned it would equate what his reaction would be had Harry really expressed disappointment in him, or worse, experienced his father's temper. He decided gloomily, that he just wanted to curl up in his mum's arms and veil his face into her shoulder forever and never have to meet the penetrating green gaze of the person he had caused pain to the most, the person he had successfully disappointed, the person he had desired the most: his father.

And no, he wasn't aware of a stench of hyperbole. His dad was really disappointed in him, not entirely impervious to James's internal quarrel.

And as they walked in tense silence, James's thoughts drifted into a state of melancholy. He comforted himself by throwing discreet glances at his father, who, James feared, was trapped in another world. However, ever the faithful companion, he vowed to stay by his father's side, even if he had completely blown his chance of having a healthy relationship with his father. He was walking so close to his dad that he could feel his warmth filling him with a feeling he had never experienced before. The feeling of security. The feeling of having nothing to worry because his dad was there beside him, and he relished in it, partly because of a nagging feeling that his dad would abandon him should he unravel his son's secrets.

And the tears came easily with the thought, but he was determined to stifle them. He wanted to be strong, like the person walking beside him. He refused to show his dad that he was weak, but most of all, he wanted his dad's acceptance. Consequently, he peeled his teeth from where they were biting his lip, and opened his mouth, finally validating a decision, but it was crumbled to smithereens as he whirled towards his missing companion, and dread filled his heart.

Where had his father gone?

James's eyes widened and his breath came out in sharp gasps as he turned to locate his father. Had his father really abandoned him? The mere thought was enough to bring him to knees, but to witness himself, well, he thought he'd rather die again. He had spent his entire life working to make his dad proud, he desperately hoped he hadn't left him. And just as he opened his mouth to cry out for his dad, he peered behind him, and elicited a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.

He hadn't left, after all.

Reassured that he had no tears to donate, James wheeled back around towards his dad and walked to him. Harry was currently leaning his left arm on a randomly selected tree, peering down to the ground, and from James's position, he couldn't see his eyes, for his hat was shielding them from visual threats. However, when James walked close enough, about an arm's length from him, he asked with expressed hesitance, "D–da – er – _Harry_?" James cursed himself for the slip up, hoping Harry didn't notice anything – not now, anyway.

But his dad had snapped his head up, like a deer in the headlights, and James noticed that his eyes were brighter than usual, a tad more sharp as well, and he was looking at James like he had never seen him before, and judging by his wide open eyes, James had a slight suspicion that he had caught his slip-up.

"He tricked me," Harry muttered softly, his eyes flicking from the ground to the boy, and James hoped his dad wasn't going crazy. He wasn't sure if his dad was talking to himself or to James, "like a _Potter_." And Harry finally sealed his wide eyes to the boy's, who had expectedly frozen in his place, and who was staring at his dad with genuine surprise and a tremendous amount of longing in his eyes, and Harry nearly kicked himself for not realizing it sooner.

James, meanwhile, was shocked that his dad had ruled out his prank so soon. He had been so silent for nearly half an hour whilst James had been stewing in his guilt. How had he not noticed that he was simply ruling out the possibilities? He looked up at his dad longingly, and finally, the tears came fast as he buried his negative thoughts deep under the snow beneath them, permitting them to fall while still gazing at his dad. He watched as his dad's countenance softened at the sight of his son's tears, and he tilted his head until it rested on the tree he was leaning on, smiling softly. "You've got your mum's eyes."

And James had never been prouder at the comment. He sucked in a sharp breath as Harry peeled his side off the tree and knelt down, similar to what he had done when James had first met him, and James fought the urge to skip around the tree, jubilantly chanting that his dad had recognized him. And James elicited a watery chuckle as he wiped at his soaked face using his dad's robes, "Hi, Dad."

And James witnessed the wonder that his dad was endeavoring to conceal as he studied every detail about his first-born son, realizing – all too late – that his son had fooled him starting from his name and ending to his missing "dad". But Harry had had the suspicion that the boy was a Potter, but he had chewed on the thought that his own father didn't have any brothers or cousins for more Potters to sprout out. Then, Harry had finally relented that he had to have come from one person, and he did, indeed, have children. But why didn't anyone tell him his son was here?

Nevertheless, Harry felt a growing lump in his throat as he studied his son. Of course he remembered him. He had remembered all of them. He had left them when they were so _small_ that he had feared that he would someday step on them by accident. But now, looking at his oldest son, he couldn't help but notice how _big _he looked since he had last left him, but small since he had seen them all as adults as well. But the most distinct features, he noticed, that he knew all his children shared, were the generous amount of freckles sprinkled across their features. And this one, he remembered clearly, had been one of the two to carry his mum's eyes, and Harry remembered that Lily had been the second.

However, what Harry didn't know was what they were like. This one, he had noticed with successfully concealed exasperation, was downright mischievous, and Harry attempted to chuckle at the thought, but he felt his throat was too clogged up for such a simple gesture, as he smiled shakily at the boy, "Hi, _James_."

And James laid down his shame and threw his small arms around his father's neck, and for the first time, he vowed to remember the feeling forever. He elicited a howl of misery as he buried his face into his dad's shoulder, not even acknowledging his dad's shock at the gesture. For once, James actually appreciated his small frame.

Harry couldn't recall a time when he felt so lost. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. He was so torn between despairing guilt and wounded longing for the bundle in his arms that he couldn't decide if he should push him away (which wasn't an option, Harry confirmed firmly) or simply leave him where he was.

But he had _left _them. How, of all the people, can his _child _forgive him?

Harry snapped out of his self-contemplation as he reverted his attention to the boy in his arms. Harry realized that the boy was shaking violently, and Harry knew it wasn't because of the cold. After all, he been occasionally casting a nonverbal warming charm on the boy, who, he now noticed, was wearing his clothes. And Harry, feeling like he was destined to be buried guilty, lifted his hands from where they were grasping his son's elbows to wrap his arms around the small frame, inadvertently tightening his embrace, But, as James's sobs intensified at the gesture, Harry attempted to pry the boy off to check if he was alright, but the boy merely tightened his arms, refusing.

But then, he thought, he hadn't been any better when he had first met his parents again.

At the thought of his parents, he remembered something his own father would do when he had been small, something to sooth him when he was feeling particularly blue, and Harry thought grimly, that that he ought to get used to being a father himself as he used one of his hands to rub circles onto the boy's back. He also realized – only after the gesture – that there was something gleaming on the boy's neck, and now, Harry noticed, that his own eyes were swimming with tears. Shutting his eyes, he permitted them to fall as he laid aside his guilt to fully envelop his son in his arms, burying his face into his untidy black hair - so like his own - that Harry felt as if a knife had pierced his chest.

James, meanwhile, was consumed with multiple enigmatic emotions, laying aside a few for contemplation. He had his face buried in the crook of his dad's neck as he elicited silent sobs, and with each sob, James felt his dad tighten his embrace, and James thought he could stay here forever, wrapped in this shell of security. He was so fully engrossed in Harry's embrace that James could identify each and every smell radiating from his dad. His father smelled like the fresh wooden handle of a broomstick, treacle tart, and surprisingly, fresh coffee.

The embrace was so different from when his uncles inferred they would substitute for a missing father. Perhaps the simplest explanation would be that James had never felt like anyone would replace his father, because they simply weren't. Perhaps Ron more than the others, but he still thought of him as a godfather, and that had always been the focal point that they had missed. But this . . . this was real. This was his _father_.

And as the sobs dwindled into hiccups, James loosened his arms a bit from where they were tightly wrapped around his father's neck and nearly chuckled softly as he thought of how lucky he was that he hadn't suffocated Harry, but he didn't want to pull away yet. Instead, he found a comfortable spot between his dad's shoulder and neck, laid his head sideways, and felt his consciousness gradually drift away as he permitted sleep into the embrace.

However, he didn't get very far, for his father's chuckling had met him halfway there, and he was too numb to lift up his head; instead, he lifted his heavily-lidded eyes to peer up at his dad, who, James noticed with a jolt, swiped the back of his hand under his glasses before tilting his head to meet James's eyes. James could see that Harry's eyes were brighter than usual, and that he was preventing the remaining tears to fall. James wanted to reassure him that it was okay to cry, but he couldn't find the strength to do even that.

He was _so _tired.

But his dad was smiling, albeit forlornly. James thought, perhaps he was because he looked funny with his lethargic gaze. James couldn't bring himself to surrender to sleep, he didn't want the possibility of this all being a dream and that he'd wake up to who-knows-where. He didn't want to leave his dad yet. Consequently, he tried to distract himself from falling asleep.

"Dad?" The word felt so foreign. He had rarely used it.

"Hmm?"

James looked up to meet his dad's questioning green gaze. They were so similar to Lily's and Albus's that James found himself comfortable looking at them. After all, he wasn't prone to awkward situations. James frowned as he fiddled with his father's cloak strap, just for something to do with his hands, as he asked, "How did you know it was me?"

He was curious to know how Harry had gone from blissful obliviousness to dawning revelation. What had his father been thinking at the time? He wanted to get familiar with how his dad worked. He didn't think his father would actually riddle it out, especially so soon.

But Harry, grabbing James by the arms, lifted him upright until James could stand on his own, and James nearly groaned. He had been comfortable, and he was still awfully tired. He had planned to go to sleep, but that didn't seem to be the case, for Harry seemed to have a slightly annoyed look as he explained, "With no help from you," and James grinned tiredly, a crinkle near his eyes indicating his guilt as Harry merely rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "I guessed you were a Potter, there was no doubt about that," he gestured to James's head, "but after going through my entire family tree, I realized you had to have come from me. I mean, I was the last Potter." And he shrugged, looking expectedly at James.

James nodded, at last, understanding his dad's thought process.

And after a moment of pondering from the both of them, James had forgotten a particular confession he felt he owed his father, and he snapped his head up to study his father's countenance for a hint of anger, but he could only see a slight exasperation and mild curiosity as well, and James breathed deeply, "Dad, I – I'm sorry . . . for, y'know – for not telling you sooner," James felt he'd rather admit he pranked McGonagall then mumble his confession to – unbeknownst to him – his amused father, "I just – wanted to know if you'd recognize me – and . . ." and James groaned and placed his palms over his eyes as he blushed tomato-red at the sight of his father's smile.

"And?" Harry prodded, hoping he'd hear the end. He was wary of his son's embarrassment, but he thought it was entirely unnecessary. Harry thought there was nothing embarrassing about the thought; in fact, he would admit that he felt rather touched at the confession.

James felt his father's Seeker-skilled hands grab his small ones, and remove them from his face. James hesitantly peered up at his dad, grateful that he wasn't laughing at him but merely smiling encouragingly, so James merely distracted his eyes from his dad's to stare towards their linked hands. His dad's hand was so different from James's and his mother's that he genuinely wondered if Harry was really his father. If hands were indicators of genetics, then James would never be Harry's son. "I was stupid." He confessed, biting his lip.

He looked back towards Harry, whose smile had slipped off his face, and was now looking quite serious that James straightened his hunched back as his father quietly scolded, and James wondered if his uncles – primarily Ron – had lied to him when they had jokingly said that Harry's temper could send a pregnant chicken sprouting quicker than anyone could blink. His father seemed to constantly radiate a quiet atmosphere. Not once did James feel an explosion rooting.

"You're not stupid," Harry said firmly, refusing to let his son's gaze quiver away, wanting him to fully understand his intentions, "There's nothing wrong with that. I mean, I can understand why you did it, and it doesn't help that you're _James Potter_, either." And Harry's lips twisted into a humorous smile, and James laughed at the insinuation.

Well, it was true.

"Grandson of a Marauder," James finished, chuckling as his dad grinned in agreement, but he still felt he owed his father as he peered genuinely at Harry, who was nearing the pit of his thoughts, but James realized he hated seeing him like that, but he accepted that it was simply a habit of his, "I really am sorry, Dad."

Harry distractedly shrugged off the apology, and James thought his father didn't seem to expect one. This was something new. Did his father easily forgive? Although, James noticed with a sinking heart that his dad was looking a bit troubled again. He snapped his eyes back to James as he said with – James noticed with amusedly – a wince. "We really should be getting back. This's the latest I've ever been." And James grinned.

He knew Harry was thinking about Lily. James recalled the patronus reassuring Lily that Harry would be back in half an hour, but, James noticed, that it was a little bit more than half an hour, and the sun was currently halfway setting, and he understood Harry's rush.

He watched as his father unlinked their hands, stood up (James had forgotten how tall he was), and beckoned James to start walking, and James irresistibly wondered why they didn't just Apparate. Not that he was complaining, though; he was just eager to spend more time with his dad. Though, James thought irritatingly, that Harry had pulled him back from his embrace far too early for James's liking. He had just wanted to sleep in his dad's comforting embrace, but said father had ruined it.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry glanced down at the boy with – much to James's grumpiness – amusement and a hint of smug as well, causing James to half-glare at him. "Reckon you could hold it in until we get back?" and James – yet again – felt guilty for glaring at him. His dad sounded genuinely concerned, but his expression said different. Well, to James, anyway.

James yawned and wished his father was as affectionate as he, himself, was, and simply carry him, but James would never outright request it. He nearly shuddered at how childish that would sound. Though, he was right, in a sense. Harry wasn't really affectionate. "Yeah," James mumbled in answer to his dad's question.

Awarding him one last concerned glance, Harry reverted his attention back to the road, feeling guilty for forcing the boy to walk alongside him, but he was too curious about him, about his son, that's all. And just when he had made the reluctant decision to Apparate, he heard a slight rustling behind him, and he halted in his tracks, causing James to peer at him confusedly.

James wondered, through his lethargy, what had caused his dad to halt like a frightened deer. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned to Harry, who had his eyes narrowed, scanning every corner of the forest before meeting his son's curious gaze. He averted his eyes to double-check their surroundings before nudging James forward to walk.

And he heard it again, and Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

James watched bemusedly as his father halted again, discreetly reached for his wand, and place a finger to his lips to signal James to stay quiet. James discreetly nodded back as Harry turned on his heels to walk back where they had been treading only a moment ago, towards a particular tree with his wand drawn out, and James suddenly felt stupidly vulnerable as he too drew out his wand. It seemed someone was following them.

But then, James heard it too, the slight rustling of feet, and he realized that it was far too close for his liking, and just when he had opened his mouth to call for Harry, the oddest thing happened.

* * *

**A/N:** Dun worry, I've already halfway finished the next chapter. The next chapter is a bit more cheerful. So, until I reach my 4,000 word limit, den I will publish. Oh, and I don't know how many chapters this story will be, but I'll tell you when the ending is here.

Por favor, **Review**!


	4. Chapter 4

**A Prolonged Encounter: Chapter Four**

**Disclaimer**: Dis de claimer? :o -gasp-

So - er, hullo again. Sorry for de long wait, but I'm sure you wouldn't like me to stall you reading this chapter with me excuses, so . . . er -

Again, this is a cheerful chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

_James watched bemusedly as his father halted again, discreetly reached for his wand, and place a finger to his lips to signal James to stay quiet. James discreetly nodded back as Harry turned on his heels to walk back where they had been treading only a moment ago, towards a particular tree with his wand drawn out, and James suddenly felt stupidly vulnerable as he too drew out his wand. It seemed someone was following them._

_But then, James heard it too, the slight rustling of feet, and he realized that it was far too close for his liking, and just when he had opened his mouth to call for Harry, the oddest thing happened._

* * *

"Looking for me?" A voice whispered in his ear, and James elicited a shout, stumbled on his feet, and fell backwards, sprawled on his back. He irritatingly lifted himself up on his elbows until he was hit by a snowball that brought him back down flat again. And in his sleep-deprived state, he scowled as he heard the laughter, shook off the snow before peeking open an eye. He was met with the amused pout of his fiery-headed mother, and he exclaimed while still sitting down. "Mum!"

His mum merely smiled at his irritation. "Aw, I forgot how grouchy you are when you're tired," Ginny teased as she pecked him on the nose, and reached out a hand to help him up, but James refused to allow her to assist him. Instead, she watched amusedly as he knocked her hand away, stood up, and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"Reckoned you needed an extra hand, that's all," Ginny whispered quietly, leaning towards him as if wary of spies in the area, and James noticed that her smile had taken a slightly forlorn route, but her eyes were twinkling. What did she mean? An extra hand for what?

And James decided irritatingly, that it wasn't worth him worrying, especially since she had been laughing only a moment ago. Anyway, he could take care of himself, and yes, even she had caught him off-guard.

He shot a mild frown at his mum, whose forlorn smile had diminished, now thoroughly replaced with love and mischief, as James brushed the snow off his father's robes. His father. James froze. He had forgotten all about him. He looked up at his mother, only to find her directing her smile to something behind his shoulder, and James noticed that her smile had shifted into a slight smirk as well.

Whirling around, James noticed that his father was torn between half-exasperation and half-amusement as he returned towards them, stowing his wand away simultaneously. "How long have you been following us?" And James hadn't the slightest clue how he knew that.

"Since the beginning of time," Ginny replied with relative ease as Harry halted just behind James, and James nearly gaped at the complacent look she was directing at her husband. James had never seen her look so smug, "I'm a member of the Harry Potter fanclub, haven't you heard? I'm paid to follow you. But – of course," Ginny grabbed her son by the shoulder until they were both facing the amused Harry, "according to my son here, we both are." And James elicited a loud scoff.

"What?" he exclaimed, shrugging off his mother's hold, and turning to face her outrageously. So she had been listening this whole time, and just when he had thought he had been having a private moment with his father this whole time. "So . . . you heard – everything?" He pinned his brown gaze into an identical brown, frowning simultaneously.

And Ginny had the grace to look a tad guilty as she reassured while rubbing the sleeve of her winter robes, "Well, if you mean around the time when _he_," she nodded at her husband, "accused you of stalking him . . . well, let's just say you got it from somewhere, shall we?" she winked and added, "Don't be mad." She pouted comically, hoping to loosen her son up. However, he was now scowling.

"Forget it, Mum," James stated vehemently through gritted teeth, hoping that the smile wasn't ruining the effect as he turned to stand beside by his father, "I think you just lost your title."

And he certainly didn't expect the reaction he was getting as Ginny muffled her laugh using the sleeve of her robes, and Harry – much to James's surprise and delight – was outright laughing at the comment. James now realized that this was the first time he had heard him laugh. He thought the sound was downright contagious, and the reluctant smile broke free as he shook his head exaggeratedly, waiting for their laughs to subside, thinking he could never get used to this. He supposed it'll always seem special.

"No!" Ginny exclaimed in mock-horror, sinking down to her knees in front of James, who was struggling to stifle a giggle, "No, Jaime, don't go over to the dark-side. You're Mummy's boy, right?" She then tossed Harry a mock-glare as he, in turn, draped an arm around James's shoulder, pulling James to his side.

"I'm not too sure," James stated casually, looking up his dad expectedly before looking back at her pout, and to James's surprised, Harry finally stepped in to elaborate, "Lay aside your confidence, Ginny. He's got a new favorite now, and I think I do, too." He looked so serious that both James and Ginny elicited identical expressions of leaning forward while clutching their stomachs, laughing.

"I'm doomed," Ginny muttered, clutching her forehead in mock-despair, and James admired her acting skills. However, Harry caught his attention again as he slipped his arm off of James to help his wife into a standing position, causing Ginny to peer at him suspiciously as he explained, urging the both of them to keep walking, "Mum's going to kill me if we don't get back soon. We better get moving." And he sank in his worries as they were urged to walk; however, Harry had a slight flaw in the plan.

"I think I'll just hang around here, then." Ginny teased, looking genuinely prepared for it, but when Harry responded, James could honestly admit that there had never been two who fully suited each other like his parents. "Don't get too lonely, then." Harry shrugged while James smirked at his mother, who, to his surprise, was looking quite impressed and amused at the retort. When she caught James's smirk, she raised her eyebrows, pointed a thumb at her husband, and mouthed proudly. 'My husband.' James merely shook his head amusedly as they both returned to Harry's side.

James caught his dad looking very smug, indeed.

After a moment, Ginny, James noticed, was glancing at him with a slight smirk, and James returned it as they accompanied Harry, mother and son on either side of him. Ginny crossed her hands behind her back as she tilted her head to meet her husband's eyes from beneath his hat, and he, in turn, snapped his head up to look at her, frowning as he asked, "What?"

If James had been in his father's place, his discomfort would be entirely visible as his mother gave Harry a piercing stare, but Harry – at the most – looked annoyed. To assuage his annoyance, Ginny decided to skip ahead to the subject at hand. "Does your mum know about your new fashion style?" she gestured towards the hat, "See, I don't think she does. Otherwise, she would have commented about how ridiculous that looks." And James felt his jaw drop. He had never heard his mum tease anyone like this, especially not someone her age, but to his utmost surprise, Harry didn't seem fazed.

"As a matter of fact, she doesn't," Harry stated calmly, now looking smug himself as he rolled his eyes, and kept his gaze towards the trail, not sparing her a glance, "and I don't accept feedback from _anyone_," he awarded Ginny with a pointed look, much to Ginny's amusement, "but her, so you can go on and say it."

"Say what?" Ginny laughed, tucking a stray hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear as she met eyes with James, "That you're mother's boy, too?" And James chuckled as he studied his father's expression, and he grinned as he eyed a slight twitch in his father's lip, foreshadowing a smile, but his pride seemed to stifle it.

But as James had been studying his father – unbeknownst to him – he had been Legilmens by his mother, who grinned and gaped at him as she pointed an accusing finger at him, causing James to flinch back from her finger outrageously. "You _knew_?"

James hadn't the slightest clue what she was on about, and he voiced that rather vehemently, "Knew _what_?" And he watched with expressed confusion as Harry, too, halted and stared at him with a curious – yet amused – furrow in his eyebrow, and James threw his hands up in defense.

"That he was mother's boy," Ginny nodded towards "him" and grinned as Harry threw her a slightly irritated look, and James would have laughed had the accusation not had been vehemently exclaimed, "You didn't quite have the reaction I was expecting, so I s'posed you had already known." She shrugged before looking towards him for an answer.

With expressed exasperation, James said, feeling slightly insulted. "'Course I knew," he said as Harry pinched his nose, "It was obvious – er," James sent a guilty look towards his dad, who was all but grimacing, "Sorry, Dad." But Harry merely placed his palm over his face and James could see the exposed edges of his skin glowing ever-red, and both Ginny and James chuckled fondly at the sight. He was really embarrassed.

"Aw, don't worry, Harry," Ginny soothed as she tilted her head sideways and stuck out her bottom lip in such a comical way that James laughed as she continued to find a position to meet her husband's eyes, "Look on the bright side, at least you've got someone to talk to." She threw a pointed look at James, who shook his head amusedly. His mother was a hoot.

Though, she successfully got a reaction out of Harry, who snorted a laugh under his hand, and when he removed it, James saw that his eyes had significantly lightened up, his eyes expressing his humor about the situation as he peeked at Ginny and laughed, "Go away." And leaving them laughing mutually in his wake, he sped up to walk ahead of them until both mother and son caught up to him and found him with his hands in his pockets, trudging casually through the snow.

James noticed that his father's green eyes were flickering back and forth between James and his mother, awarding them with a warning look, and James admired his astute observation. James noticed that Harry had a unique way of feigning obliviousness when, in fact, he was fastidiously listening to every word and watching every twitch. He liked to feign ignorance, when, in fact, he might have been a bundle of information that would leave others boggled. James found himself eager to ask if he had taught himself that strategy, or if it was simply a result of his job.

But before he could voice his thoughts, James noticed that Harry had tilted his head towards Ginny and asked with a frown on his countenance. "You're not staying the night, are you?" And James was surprised when Ginny smiled contritely in return.

"Mum's going to be worried if I don't get home soon," she said, wincing slightly at the thought of her mother, and James couldn't blame her. Molly Weasley was probably the fiercest mother, but James couldn't help but feel slightly downcast at the thought that his own mother won't be around today. He had missed her, "So, no. Not today, at least, but I promise I'll be around tomorrow – sorry, James." She smiled knowingly at him, and James forced a smile in return as Harry nodded, glancing cautiously at his son as well.

However, James furrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he turned towards his parents, who were both looking slightly guilty for something. "Wait. You mean . . . you don't live with each other?" James caught his mother glancing at Harry with a slight smirk, and he, in turn, would not meet her eyes, instead, finding the path far more interesting.

"Well, we would," she said slowly, feigning a thoughtful frown before smiling lovingly at her son, "If Harry hadn't insisted on staying with his mum," she then tilted her head playfully towards Harry, who was rolling his eyes in defeat, "Isn't that right, Daddy?"

But Harry merely raised an eyebrow. "You're one to talk," he then met eyes with James, who was startled by the sudden green glare. Harry was looking both unfazed and determined to fight back his wife's previous comment, "She was too timid to approach me the whole time she was here. I didn't know she was here until about a year or two before you came in." He then shot Ginny a victorious smirk, and James laughed fondly as a red hue flooded his mum's pretty features, significantly drowning her freckles.

Still shaking with laughter, James watched as his mum shot both males a half-hearted glare as she attempted to cover her face with her hands to hide the evidence of embarrassment all too late, and James was impressed. It took a fair amount of determination to expose his mother's weak sides. She always seemed strong to James and his siblings; like James, it took a lot of prodding for her to be comfortable with her flaws, but as James shot a surreptitious glance at his father, who was shaking his head amusedly, he realized that his father might have been his mother's prime weakness. After all, he had heard of how timid his mother had been around her hero, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of fondness towards her.

But nevertheless, he was surprised by Harry's comment. James knew she had surpassed her childhood timidity, but why had it resurfaced? "What?" James exclaimed, laughing simultaneously, as his mother peeked at him from between her fingers, "Timid? For what?" Both him and his father were glancing at Ginny expectedly, however, James noticed, that Harry was looking every bit of complacent as she lowered her hands irritatingly, looking thoroughly grim.

"I was _small_, alright?" Ginny said defensively, "Probably smaller than you are now," and James pouted irritatingly at the statement as she chuckled slightly in return, "I didn't want anyone besides my family seeing me like that. That would've been embarrassing." She shook her head in grim.

But as James cast a glance at his father, he noticed that his dad had a frown present on his countenance, looking thoroughly detached from the conversation as he neared the pit of his thoughts, and a thought crossed James's mind as he shifted his attention back onto his mother. "But – didn't you . . . miss him or anything? I mean, that would've been worth the embarrassment, wouldn't it?" And he missed his father snapping his head up in surprise and smiling at his comment.

Though, Ginny was looking mildly appalled at his statement as she cringed slightly. "Are you kidding? That would've been really awkward. It's almost like telling a giant 'excuse me, sir, but I happen to be your goblin-sized wife.'" And James winced slightly as his imagination painted a vivid image of the scene. He nearly chuckled as his father's sarcasm emerged once more, causing the two of them to shift their attention back to their phantom-like companion.

"That's an image." Harry muttered slightly, unintentionally placing himself in the spotlight once more, and James admired how he instinctively seemed to know what to comment for the moment. Ginny merely glared, and finished her thoughts.

"And besides," she said in a biting tone as Harry adjusted his glasses with an audible sigh, "I waited _six _years for him to notice that his wife was right in front of him. I'm sure he could wait twenty." James guessed that this was another day for his parents judging by his father's bored look. When he caught his son's gaze, Harry smiled in response to his son's hesitant look. He leaned slightly towards James to mutter in an attempt to assuage his worries, "I've got my hands full." And James grinned, relaxing significantly.

He had been worried that his parents were prone to arguing like his other uncles and aunts. From witnessing the arguments himself, James had concluded that he felt rather uncomfortable around them. He really didn't like conflict, but as he sighted his mother's exasperated look and his father's amused expression, he realized that it would take effort for his parents to genuinely argue. Harry was simply too placid and Ginny too spontaneous for that sort of thing, and he felt grateful at his father's reassurance. He also noticed – with mutual amusement – that his dad was inadvertently taking the father role, and he resisted the urge to snicker.

But Harry, stuffing his hands into his robes pockets, refused to drop the subject. Instead, much to James's delight, he added a bit of his own flare into it. "I want to feel guilty, I really do." And James couldn't stifle his snicker anymore. His father's expressions were impeccable. In fact, he hadn't been looking at his wife at all as he adopted both a hopeless and bored expression, and when James looked back at his father, his laughs renewed as Harry shot him a mock-frown, his smile nearly tainting the image.

Ginny, however, merely crossed her arms, and unbeknownst to the males, she had been relishing in the subtle gestures and glances between her husband and son. She had always reassured her three children that their father would have loved them and they would vice-versa, but she had always intuited – based on the slight hesitance on their features – that they had doubted it. But now, she thought with relief, she had a way to mitigate their doubt. Although, she knew she could effortlessly convince the children. The father, however, was another story yet to be told.

And she decided to keep the consistency of the atmosphere present as she asked, with faint irritation present in her tone. "And how's that working out for you?" She feigned a disgusted expression as Harry crinkled his brow and twisted his lip as he responded, much to James's further amusement.

"It isn't." Harry said dryly, looking exceptionally detached from the "tense" atmosphere before turning to eye his wife's glare; in response, he smiled innocently as beside him, James continued to snicker. Merlin, he couldn't wait for Albus and Lily to meet their dad. He was better than they had ever imagined him to be. He looked up only to find his mother shaking her head amusedly. Clearly, she had surrendered.

James heard a small snort coming from his mother, and when he turned his head to eye her expression, she was looking back at him with a dangerous gleam in her eye as she nodded her head towards their oblivious companion. For the first time, James appreciated his dad's hat as it concealed his peripheral vision, and James immediately nodded in response as he struggled to stifle his snigger.

But their companion wasn't as oblivious as the two preferred him to be. In fact, he gradually grew suspicious as he eyed their similar silences. Both mother and son were casting discreet glances at each other, with him in the middle. He wondered if he was missing something. Pinning his attention to the two, he feigned indifference by studying the scenery in front of him, but he knew one of them won't buy it. She simply knew too much about him, and said subject was currently smirking devilishly. He irresistibly wondered how he had ever trusted her with his life, and he grimaced at the thought.

However, after a moment of tense silence, Harry noticed that James had halted in his steps and was staring wide-eyed at something. Harry, too, halted as he endeavored to find what was wrong with him as he met eyes with Ginny, who looked just as bewildered as he, and they both turned towards him. "James?" Harry asked warily, "Are you alright?" and Harry moved to stand beside him in an attempt to find the source of his shock, inadvertently feeling like how a true father would.

But James didn't answer, and Ginny placed a hand on her son's shoulder, struggling to snap him out of his daze as she turned to peer at Harry worriedly, and he shrugged in response.

"James?" Ginny prodded.

And Harry, who had been squinting his eyes at anything beside the trees, felt something hard smash into his face, knocking off his hat, and he thought exaggeratedly, that this had been the second time he had been tricked today. He heard James and Ginny choking in their laughter as he irritatingly wiped the snow off his glasses so he could glare at them as he calmly proceeded to clean his robes.

And, bless him, he didn't see the hand that reached out to snatch his glasses.

"Ginny!" Harry bellowed in exasperation, but he peeked up at a red blur, who he knew was the reason he couldn't see, "Give me back my glasses!"

"Hi, Dad," A voice exclaimed, and Harry realized that it sounded very close, and blurrily, he peered down to find a grey blur fused with a gleaming white hue, and Harry noticed exasperatedly, that it was James, grinning widely, exposing his pearly teeth. Harry couldn't stifle his chuckle as he shook his head, leaned down slightly, and tilted his hat to meet his son's eyes, hearing a giggle in return as he snatched his hat, "I knew you were your mum's son."

James merely shrugged knowingly, grinned before turning around to eye his mother, who was laughing as she shoved his father's glasses on her nose, and James nearly flinched at the obvious similarities between Lily and his mother. He could bet his life that snatching Harry's glasses would be something Lily would execute. In fact, Lily could be as much – if not twice – as mischievous as James and his mother, and at the thought of Lily, James's exultance nearly collapsed on its pillars before he forced himself to recover again. She'd be here soon, he reassured himself.

"Ginny!" Harry's bellowing startled him out his thoughts as Ginny continued to laugh at her husband's apparent dismay. James turned to witness the scene with amusement as Harry reached out a palm to demand his personal material back and James also noticed in jolly horror, that his father had one hand buried in his robes pocket, obviously reaching for his wand, and James thought gallantly, that he wanted to see this.

Ginny, much to James's awe, merely laughed, waving her hand in front of Harry mockingly, as James decided to ask, aware that it wasn't the right time to ask, but he blamed his father for his inherited curiosity. "Why're you still wearing glasses?" James asked, amusement faint in his tone as he looked up at his father, whose eyes were gleaming with a glare at his wife before glancing curiously at his son. James watched as Harry's expression remained neutral as he responded rather dispassionately.

"They're the latest fashion, haven't you heard?" He responded airily and James's eyes watered in humor as he bit his lip to stifle his laugh. Both males then turned towards the female, James amused and Harry glaring as she placed intentionally herself into the spotlight again.

"Oh, great, now I've got to get me one for myself, haven't I?" she elaborated, her voice still wavering with laughter as her eyes widened in mock-awe at the sight of the glasses dangling from her fingers. Harry scowled, "Oh, hold the owl, I've already got one." She laughed again, waved, and with a speed of light, disappeared down the trees, the sun accompanying her as well, and James and Harry were left alone once again.

"I'm guessing you haven't seen that side of your mum before, have you?" Harry asked, amusement dripping in his tone as he (blurrily) eyed his son's widened eyes. James nearly startled as he refocused his attention back to Harry with widened eyes and with such awe that Harry couldn't help but chuckle as James shook his head absentmindedly in response.

Of course he hadn't, especially since the children had not only lost a father, but his mother had also lost her husband, her hero. His mother had seemed so subdued and mature compared to the face she revealed now. James had always felt like his mother was concealing a part of herself each time they conversed back when his father had been absent. James knew that she had sacrificed her state of melancholy for her children because she knew they needed someone to support them. But only now did James perceive what his mother had meant when she had said that Harry wasn't really her husband, but one of her genuine friends, and James felt his heart swell at the thought.

He snapped out his dreary thoughts when he felt Harry ruffling his hair, and James peeked up at him gratefully as he asked with a wavering tone. "You can still see, can't you? I don't have to hold your hand or anything for you, do I?" And James eyes went cross-eyed for a moment when a wand suddenly rammed into his vision, and he couldn't stifle the laugh as he threw his hands up in defense, reluctantly surrendering.

"We can test that, if you'd like?" Harry said mockingly, mock-frowning at the boy, who was cringing away from the wand as he laughed. Harry then relented a smile as James shook his head hastily in response, waving his hands in defense, "I'm good."

Awarding one last warning look in which James smiled innocently in return, Harry stowed his wand into his robes before beckoning James to accompany him. "Come on. Let's find Mum before she gets herself into any trouble."

James nodded in return before he frowned and added, much to Harry's amusement. "Where Mum is, there's trouble always." And Harry grinned in agreement as the two proceeded to find the long lost female, and they needed not look far, in fact, they found her without excessive efforts from the two of them.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey, you made it. Again sorry for de wait, I was busy watching the World Cup, busy with HP stuff, opening of the Wizarding worlds, new article (Harry's growing grey hairs -sobs-) and feeling guilty for killing Harry off when he had such a happy life, but I'm reassuring myself that it's only a fanfic for y'all, m'kay? Please keep waiting for more chapters yet to come. -bow-

Oh, and do check out my James/Lily if you'd like. It's called a Compromising Confession, nothing too overdone if I may say so myself, but do enjoy if you liked it.

Anyway, y'all know the drill. Constructive criticism please. Character development, characterization, grammar, vocab, dialogue, yada yada yada . . .

Oh, and thanks to those reviewing, and everyone else -

Please.

**Review**. :)

Until next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: Ugh - is all I have to say.

Yes, I know, believe me (even if you don't a reason to, sowwy again) but I couldn't find an ending to this exacerbating chapter, so consequently, I guess, you will be happy to know this chapter is officially three times longer than the previous.

So, lay back, enjoy, and make sure to finish that cup o' coffee with yeh, eh?

-yawn-

* * *

_Awarding one last warning look in which James smiled innocently in return, Harry stowed his wand into his robes before beckoning James to accompany him. "Come on. Let's find Mum before she gets herself into any trouble."_

_James nodded in return before he frowned and added, much to Harry's amusement. "Where Mum is, there's trouble always." And Harry grinned in agreement as the two proceeded to find the long lost female, and they needed not look far, in fact, they found her without excessive efforts from the two of them._

* * *

James, however, could intuit how Harry had found her, but simultaneously, hedidn't exactly grasp how his father managed to. In fact, he only knew his father had found Ginny when he had suddenly flicked his wand, and together, they circled past the last tree only to stumble across a large circumference of land, and at the tip of the circumference, a rusty cabin was situated. It looked eerily familiar. However, James couldn't quite study it as thoroughly for, hanging upside down with her ponytail swinging to and fro, was his mother, and he elicited a roar of laughter.

His mother, in turn, bore a death glare.

"Harry!" Ginny bellowed in exasperation. She was hanging from the cabin, and James kept his eyes peeled. Never had anyone been as gallant to challenge Ginny Potter. They knew the consequences, but his father was simply taking it in his stride. He didn't even look concerned.

Instead, he awarded her with a dispassionate gaze.

"My glasses, please." Harry mocked simply. However, James could see the victorious gleam in his eyes as he looked upon Ginny with an expected look. James simply snickered helplessly while his mother huffed in irritation. His parents were acting worse than children. A fine example for the children, indeed; nevertheless, James grinned wickedly.

"Hagrid! Tell him to let me down!" Ginny yelled, and James snapped his head up in surprise. Hagrid? Oh, Merlin, he was here? It had been years since he had last seen Hagrid. He had been a close friend to James and his siblings.

"Alrigh', Harry, pu' 'er down," A loud booming voice greeted James's ears, and he welcomed the sound as he whirled around to face the approaching half-giant. Indeed, Hagrid hadn't changed a hair about him as he approached them with all his great glory. James also noticed – with delight – that Hagrid was still as characteristically obsessed with exotic creatures as James had left him, for he was clutching a bucket of slug repellent as he circled to them from the backyard, "Go on."

"Hagrid!" James exclaimed enthusiastically, sprinting towards the half-giant and hurling himself into Hagrid's arms. He endeavored to bind his emotions as he buried his face into Hagrid's thick cloak, and he didn't even acknowledge that Hagrid had frozen in shock.

"James? Tha' yeh?" Hagrid exclaimed when he caught sight of the untidy mop of hair, and James felt Hagrid threaten to suffocate him when he lifted the boy off his feet to embrace him properly. James, however, decided that he shouldn't complain, especially since he didn't want to ruin Hagrid's jolly mood, "How've yeh been, mate? I've missed yeh!"

"I've missed you, too," James choked, breathing a sigh of relief when Hagrid set him down again, and he rubbed his sore ribs as he peered amusedly up at Hagrid, who was grinning, but James noticed concernedly, that his signature beetle eyes were glistening with tears, "I see you haven't lost your touch." And Hagrid chuckled when James gestured to his sore ribs.

"Nah, I wouldn' be Hagrid then, would I?" James grinned in agreement and laughed when Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly.

However, they were – rather rudely – interrupted.

"I do love reunions as much as the next person, but mind getting me down before my head explodes with rush of blood?" Ginny interrupted through gritted teeth, glaring at Harry, who was leaning his arm against a neighboring tree, looking exceptionally unaffected by his surroundings, and James nearly laughed at the sight of his father's expression. He had forgotten all about his parents whilst consumed by his emotions, but he couldn't help but notice that his father looked significantly younger without his glasses. James nearly flinched at the uncanny similarities between Albus and their father.

The distinct difference, however, were the glasses. Albus didn't wear glasses, and James recalled that his father was still blind.

He nearly chuckled.

He watched as Hagrid stepped over to handle the situation with all his great glory, and James peeked from behind him to watch. "Le' her down, Harry, come on. What's she done to you, anyway?" Hagrid scolded, and James hoped his father wouldn't take offense to the statement. He watched warily as Harry's expression fused to outrage.

"I can't see, Hagrid!" Harry stated, rather defensively, and James bit his lip. He didn't know if his father was being serious or if he was getting nerved by the accusation. He watched as his father pointed an accusing finger at Ginny, who was gradually growing irritated by the minute, and James noticed that she bore a challenging glare that he did not like one bit, "She nicked my glasses!"

And Hagrid sighed, causing James to relax significantly as he noticed the similarities between this situation and the situations James and his siblings caused. He supposed that this entire scene was all words, not serious, but he certainly didn't expect this coming from his mum and dad. He had always thought that they would've been a lot more mature, but he certainly didn't wish otherwise.

This was incredible.

"Ginny, give 'em back his glasses," Hagrid turned towards the upside down Ginny, who was still glaring, but at the sight of Hagrid's look, she relented, reached into the pocket of her robes, and tossed the glasses onto the ground where they zoomed towards the owner, and James blinked at the apparent nonverbal spell. Why hadn't his father cast it in the first place?

But, then, he had his answer after Harry had wiped his glasses and set them back onto his nose with a smug look about him. "Thank you." Harry said curtly, and despite it being a polite thing to say, James wasn't certain it was genuine. And suddenly, his father's wand had finally appeared in his hand, and James watched as his father flicked his wand lazily, startling James when Ginny collapsed behind him, and he wanted to laugh, he really did.

"What a gentleman," Ginny muttered to Harry as she lifted herself off the snow and brushed the fluff off her robes impatiently. Harry snorted amusedly, and simply watched as she stood up, making no attempt to assist her.

"Come on, you three, it's gettin' dark. How 'bout a cup o' tea before you leave, huh? For old times' sake?" Hagrid said good-naturedly, and James instinctively looked to his parents for approval when Harry nodded, finally permitting a genuine smile.

And while Hagrid went inside the cabin, Harry shot Ginny a smirk as he passed her with the intention to follow Hagrid, but he had a slight flaw in the plan. James watched with widened eyes as Ginny advanced from behind Harry with her wand drawn out, and James, despite himself, couldn't resist crying out, "Dad, look out!"

Punctual to a fault, Harry whirled around with his wand already drawn out to shoot a spell at Ginny, which brought the latter straight back onto the snow, the band of her ponytail flying out as her hair fanned around her, and James, with slight admiration, noticed she was laughing as she shamefully covered her eyes with her palms. He watched in awe as Harry, despite himself, moved forward to check on her when suddenly she had fired at him again, giving her the time to recover and stand up when he blocked her spell. James noticed that his father's reflexes were astounding.

And James knew he had never seen a better sight, especially not with the two laughing.

It was peculiar, really, how none of his other uncles and aunts shared relationships like this. Hell, he didn't even have a relationship like this. They all seemed to choose either polar opposites or distinct similarities, with the other balancing their partner's weakness and vice-versa, but James had never seen two were so much the same, yet simultaneously, different as well.

The most striking similarity, however, that seemed to twine them together were that they were both daredevils, eager to tackle anything they consider practically challenging.

He supposed that what brought them together was that, James noticed after meeting his father, they both seemed to share a unique sense of humor. While one started the joke, the other finished, and James loved that. It seemed much more interesting that way. He noticed, from his mother's stories, that they both liked challenges, Quidditch, disregarding the rules whenever necessary, even going as far as disregarding the traditional parent roles, and James knew that would leave particular others baffled.

Indeed, even Ginny, who had faithfully remained single at the time, had still showered hints of her audacity, despite her melancholic state, and James knew, despite not knowing much about his dad, that Harry had it, too, especially being the Chosen One. After all, how had he defeated Voldemort singlehandedly at the tender age of seventeen without a pinch of bravery? His parents seemed to like boldness, and James guessed, that even if they had started living back together as a family, they would rarely stay in the house, especially Harry, whom he had stumbled upon in the midst of his own adventure. They were bundles of energy, but thankfully, the trait had been assuaged slightly in their children.

But James didn't forget the differences.

Indeed, James knew there were striking differences between the two, and it was apparent. Ginny, even back when her husband had been absent at the time, was sociable, gregarious, and a jokester along with Ron. James knew that that had been her effort for her children to remain on the happy side of life, but as he watched her block his father's hexes with a grin, he realized that her enthusiasm was doubled around her partner-in-crime. He couldn't help but feel a surge of love towards his mother, who had fought and suffered without complaint.

Harry, however, was virtually a mystery to anyone who didn't know him, and James's heart sank when he realized that he was one of the unlucky few, but he guessed he ought to give his father some time, for James, himself, had secrets, too.

Simply put, Harry, unlike anyone James had ever met, bore a private aura of secrets around him. He knew how hard it was for anyone to gain Harry's trust whole-heartedly, but Harry was quiet, observing, and curious, asking loads of questions and never making his intentions clear as to what exactly he was looking for. He would indirectly collect information from numerous sources (or people) without ever expressing why, and while James could swiftly identify an expression at times, other times, his father was stoic, rarely letting anyone past the limited barrier that he had built around him.

James supposed that his father's appreciation for humor was rooted to the fact that he had suffered beyond wildest imagination. James guessed that his dad simply liked to stay distracted from dreary thoughts. He guessed that that particular reason had exposed his father's awareness for his wife. It wasn't hard to imagine what his parents would look like together, but he had yet to see an explosion rooting from Harry, who, James noticed in delight, was currently laughing at the sight of his wife buried in the snow, but James guessed that Ginny would be the one to calm him down if he ever did.

His mother didn't have much of a temper, not as explosive as her own mother, that was for sure.

But James finally snapped his head out of contemplation when Ginny finally overpowered Harry by shooting consecutive hexes, rendering his father's shield to strain slightly, and James laughed at the victorious gleam in his mum's eyes. However, he did feel slightly guilty for supporting his father, who, from an unbiased perspective, was a natural fighter, and he squinted his eyes open when Ginny had finally sought a way to break past the barrier, and Harry, for the first time, was blasted to the ground.

And despite himself, James laughed.

His laughs doubled when he realized that Harry was laughing, too, clutching his hair in mock-dismay as he shook his head incessantly, muttering to himself, and James was impressed by his dad's relaxed nature. He loved that part of him, a part that he had always wished in a father, and now he realized, his wish had already been granted long before he was born. He had secretly hoped for someone similar to his uncle Ron, as he naturally relished in his presence. He liked Ron's humor and laid-back persona, contrasting sharply to Hermione's strict rules, but James realized that they blended nicely. While Hermione loosened, Ron grew ever tactful.

But Harry, was both figuratively and literally, the monkey in the middle.

Harry was neither mischievous nor strict. He wasn't a natural joker, but he seemed to unconsciously bubble the laugh in James's chest with his dry humor. He didn't constantly look for information, rather, discreetly, and only because he was curious, not because it was fun (according to his aunt Hermione). Like Ron, he seemed to have a natural hands-on ability, learning while exploring, not reading. He didn't seem too serious, and his abrupt mood changes lead for others to quickly relax when he finally started joking around. He seemed to know what fun was as demonstrated by the current situation, and James finally understood why Ron had appreciated Harry's company more than the rest.

He couldn't believe his father had the worst enemies. He was naturally likeable with his generosity, kindness, manners, and humor.

He concluded that some people were – simply put – stupid.

He watched warily as Ginny approached Harry with victory written all over her freckled features, and James hoped she wouldn't cast her signature spell. She tilted her head mockingly as she glanced down at Harry with narrowed eyes. "Who ever said girls can't fight _and _win?" She gave a pointed look, smiling smugly.

But Ginny, bless her, had forgotten one small detail, and James immediately noticed her mistake. Deciding to keep his mouth shut, he bit his lip as he watched Harry reach for his wand ever-so-subtly, and in a blink of an eye, she was – once again – blasted towards the ground.

And Harry, in turn, stood up and approached her with an amused grin, tilting his head in a similar fashion as he responded. "Same people who said girls can't play Quidditch."

Then, he smiled before, unpredictably, reaching out a hand to help her up, and James cringed as he noticed that that was a bad move. He guessed Harry thought that they were done, but even James could spot the gleam in his mother's eye as she well-manneredly reached out a hand to accept the offer. Suddenly, she had his father's hands handcuffed behind his back, wearing an apparent smirk, her grin threatening to ruin the effect when he shook with laughter.

"Well, well," Ginny tsked, shaking her head in disappointment from her place behind Harry as he attempted to break his hands free to no avail. James approached the madmen, and his mother then turned to address him with a smug look about her, and he snorted a laugh in return, "Look here, James, we've caught one and only, _Head Auror_, now what does what kind of reputation does that serve to the department now, hmm?"

And, as expected, she was blasted towards the ground again, and James felt his cheeks ache at the unfailing grin that refused to slip off his face. He watched as his father removed the cuffs around his wrists using wandless magic, rubbed his hands where there was a slight imprint of the cuff before turning around, both him and his son collapsing at the sight of her green hair.

"Maybe you could try taking my place, Ginny," Harry said, his voice wavering with laughter as his wife took on a furious look, flicking her wand abruptly at her green hair, which gradually fused into her natural red-hair, and James thought the color symbolized her present mood accurately, "It'll definitely go good with that hair."

And James, despite himself, couldn't sacrifice his mouth for his mum. "Yeah, just go in, and say 'excuse me, but I'm here to apply for a job as an Auror, you don't take green hair, do you?'" James imitated a high pitched voice, reminiscent to how his uncle Ron mocked Hermione, "And the next thing you know, you're arrested."

James knew his mother wouldn't take offense to that. After all, they were best friends. She was as much as his supporter as he was hers, but it was only until after his father's laughter had snapped him out of his daze did he finally realize that he was acting himself again, particularly around his father.

And he laughed too, when suddenly, his mother had rammed head-first into the two, gesturing an air punch in an attempt to shut them up, but nevertheless, she was grinning. She finally straightened up, her nose pointing mockingly in the air as she crossed her arms and jutted her head away from them, adding a slight, "Prats. Both of you." They snorted.

The three of them then turned at the sound of a slight commotion going on around the front door as Hagrid peeked out, narrowing his eyes at the sight of them. "Are you lot comin' or what? I've already got the tea set."

"Oh," Harry blinked surprisingly, as if he had only just registered the world around him, and it was true, he had, in a sense, "Right. Yeah, we're coming." And without another thought, he absentmindedly left the two of them standing and went to follow Hagrid inside, his robes billowing slightly behind him as they heard him mutter, "Sorry, Hagrid."

Hagrid's reply was muffled.

But James had something big to say as he whirled towards his mother, who had been likewise watching the exchange between her husband and Hagrid, and she snapped her head towards James when he exclaimed with a wicked grin on his countenance, "That was incredible! You never told us you knew how to fight, not like that." Ginny smiled at the sight of his trademark grin.

However, she tried to pull off a slightly offended look. "Well, where d'you think you three inherited it from? From your father?" And James shook his head amusedly at his mother's attempt at arrogance, and she laughed, "Can't be."

"He taught you, didn't he?" James asked, remembering Dumbledore's army all too well. He knew that that had been the first time his father had revealed his leadership abilities, and it had assisted him tremendously when he finally moved to being the official leader of the war, and after that, the leader of his department. But when James noticed his mother's slight downcast look, his heart sank as he reached out a hand to grasp hers. She smiled weakly in return. Her past was clearly haunting her.

"Well, back when we were kids-free," she sank down on the snow to rest her back against the wall behind her, dragging him with her, and he curled up against his mum as she draped an arm around him, wondering how on earth had he endured without her, "We always used have some time to ourselves every now and then, when I'd get home from Quidditch and he'd get home from his Auror rubbish," she elicited an expression of disgust, and James grinned at the obvious repulsion for the job. She seemed to blame his job for snatching her hero away from her, "we'd both try to teach each other some new tricks. I'd teach him some Quidditch moves I learned during my games, and he'd teach me how to cast wandless magic and what-not. And if you're wondering," She added, glancing at him pointedly with a twinkle in her eyes, "That's our fights. Neat, isn't it?"

And James nodded, relaxing significantly at the verification. He had been right; his mum and dad didn't argue as much as they should, being a married couple and all, but he felt blessed at the uniqueness of his parents, and he felt touched at his mother's sensitivity. She always seemed to know what bothered him the most, and he laid his head against her shoulder, focusing on her breathing as she pressed a peck on his forehead. It was a miracle how humans could switch from breathing to not, in a second's time.

But James furrowed his eyebrows as a thought crossed his mind. "That's why the backyard's so big, isn't it?" And James felt his mother's shoulders shake as she chuckled.

"Unfortunately, yes. But it'd be boring without it, don't you think?" she tilted her head so he could see her smile and he returned it, albeit amusedly, "I mean, who'd want a house, anyway? I'd rather live in the outdoors, wouldn't you?" And James laughed at how characteristic that sounded coming from her. He had wondered why himself – and his mother apparently – had bothered to purchase a house at all.

"'Course," James feigned a thoughtful look as he put a finger to his chin mockingly and twisted his lip for effect, "Let's just forget the fact that we've already bought houses, and say that we've been living the outdoors since the beginning of time, right?"

"Why _not_?" Ginny feigned a chortle as she tackled his ribs with her fingers, digging them into his sides, eliciting a series of giggles from James, who was endeavoring to suck in a breath. And as he attempted to push her hands away, she entangled their fingers together, and James was finally able to breathe as she smiled sweetly.

"So . . . did you like Daddy, then?" Ginny asked softly, placing her forehead against her son's, her carefree mood suddenly dropping abruptly as she took on a serious look. And he snapped his eyes up in apparent disbelief, raising an eyebrow as he asked suspiciously, "Is that really a question?"

"Yes, Jaime, it ends with a question mark, does it not?" she rolled her eyes in exasperation. Her tone was one of scolding children, and James exhaled deeply as he struggled to find the proper choice of diction to describe the abstruse feelings his father had planted in him. He knew why she had asked him, but he felt so confused. He knew his mother was trying to help him identify why he felt that way.

But he didn't know what to feel.

"He-he – he's just – " James bit his lip and averted his eyes away from his mum's to scan the forest acutely, as if desperate to for an answer, but he felt his mother's fingers tilt his chin back towards her, and James averted his eyes when he felt a slight sting in his eyes, "I dunno." James exhaled frustratingly, blinking the tears away. The emotions just won't leave him alone, will they?

But his mother was looking slightly concerned, or at least, was _trying _to look concerned. "You mean you _didn't _like him?" She feigned a gasp, placing her palm over her mouth in mock-horror in an attempt to draw out a smile from him, and she succeeded when he elicited a watery smile, albeit grudgingly.

"I did. Of course I did." James verified softly, sounding unintentionally defensive whilst fiddling with his mother's fingers. Who _wouldn't _like Harry? But his thoughts were overwhelming at the moment. He just didn't know what was wrong with him or why the thought of his father stirred up such enigmatic feelings. Feelings he had never tapped on before, and he absentmindedly rubbed his eyes to scare away the tears.

"Then what's wrong?" she asked softly, tilting her head to meet his eyes. Her heart melted when she heard a slight sniff coming from him, and she resisted the urge to tuck him near her and bury him in her cocoon of security. After she had become a mother, she finally realized why her own mother was adamant about her children staying safely with her. She knew children needed their freedom, but that still didn't stop from feeling that way.

And finally, James shed his shield as he snapped his watery eyes up to meet his mum's before whispering softly, as if wary of his father eavesdropping nearby. "What if I'm not enough? I mean, he's done so many things. He's saved the world when he was _seventeen_, and he didn't even stop after that. He kept fighting and died trying. I haven't done nearly as much, nor Al, nor Lily. What if he expected us to?" and James snorted humorlessly, his bitterness gradually oozing out of him as his fears suddenly flooded his voice, "He'll be disappointed for sure."

But Ginny, despite all her humor and jokes, adopted such a serious look that James immediately concluded he was wrong. If anyone knew Harry better, it was Ginny.

"Disappointed?" Ginny asked softly, furrowing her eyebrows as she continued, "Disappointed for what? You think your father has a list of things he expects in you lot?" and James ducked his head shamefully, but she was determined for him to hear her out as she tilted his chin up again to make her intentions clear, "Of course not. And you say you haven't done as much, but James, the whole point of the war was so you wouldn't go through what we did. We didn't want any of you to see what we saw, so we handled it ourselves –"

"But that's not fair!"

"It's not," Ginny admitted reluctantly. She definitely agreed that she wouldn't want her kids to go through what she did, but she had to humor him into listening, "But James, loads of people died in the war, including his parents. You can't expect him to just lay back against a couch and not care about a single soul. He didn't want anyone going through what he did. It's not easy losing parents. He felt so guilty for leaving you, you know," She whispered the last sentence as she wiped his tears away from her thumb, "He wouldn't tell me, but I know."

But James was adamant to admit that he didn't blame him, especially his father. "But – we don't –"

"I know," Ginny whispered in defeat, sighing softly, averting her eyes away to study the opaque scenery with apparent disinterest, "But he doesn't." James could tell that she's talked this over with Harry many times, but Harry, naturally, still refused to admit that he felt guilty, instead, choosing to lock it up in a deep chamber accessible to no one but himself.

After a moment of silence, in which Ginny pulled her hair back into its ponytail, she added with slight humor in her tone, and James felt grateful for the change of mood. "But be careful around him. Mind you, he can pretty hurtful with words. I'd be worried if I were you." She winked, and James knew she was joking, but simultaneously, she wasn't.

"What d'you mean?" James furrowed his eyebrows, deciding it was a perfect time to voice his anxiety, "You said he had a temper. Were you joking, then?" And Ginny looked amused as she raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn't know he had feared his dad's temper. He always seemed to boast about how Gryffindor-ish he was.

Ginny sat up, realizing this was her time to shine. Leaning closer to her son, she flicked her eyes left and right as if in search for spies before narrowing her eyes. "No, I wasn't joking. His temper's as bad as my mum's." And she giggled at the horrified look on her son's countenance. When James realized she was joking, he pouted irritatingly as he waved his hand exasperatedly.

"You're never serious," James mumbled, a traitorous tug on his lip indicating a reluctant smile. He wrinkled his nose when his mum tapped it teasingly, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"Seriously, though, he really does a have temper, but I wouldn't be too worried," and she bore a thoughtful look as she reminisced about her past for a moment, "In fact, I can't remember the last time he was really angry with the three of you. With me, yes, but with you . . . Hmm. No, I don't think so." She shrugged, and James felt himself relaxing significantly as he curled up against his mum again as she stroked his hair soothingly, but he forced his eyes open. He didn't want to fall asleep now.

Consequently, he distracted himself by talking, partly because he was curious at what ticked Harry off. "You said he was angry with you?" James furrowed his eyebrows as Ginny nodded in confirmation. He glanced up at her as he said, "For what?"

When Ginny chuckled, James knew that his mother knew how to handle an explosion.

She averted her eyes away, lost in thought as James, too, studied at the gleam of the moon's smile. It was a crescent moon today. "Before we married," Ginny began, still studying the skies with a dispassionate gaze. However, there was a smile present on her lips as she recalled her past, "He was working day and night, never letting himself a break. Mum always complained about it. Teddy felt lonely without him, and Ron and Hermione were downright upset about it, but he insisted it was necessary. He would come back in the middle of night – around three, at least – he'd fall asleep and they'd call him in three hours later for emergencies or rubbish like that. He'd tell Mum to wake him up – and you know how she is."

She chuckled as she recalled her mother's expression whenever she'd be forced to wake him up. She fought an internal quarrel of waking him up for his job or leaving him asleep for his health. And as James nodded, a fond smile tugging on his lip, she continued.

"She's always worried about him, probably more than her own kids. And I don't blame her, really. He's a magnet for trouble," and James chuckled at the comment. That much was obvious when he had first laid eyes on his father, "And – well, I got furious," she winced slightly at the sight of her son's knowing – yet amused look, "I went to Robards to request him a day off. He said I had to be a relative or something for him to accept it. I wasn't thinking of anything, then, so . . . I told him I was his wife," and James burst into laughter. He could imagine his mum being as furious to go as far as labeling herself as his dad's wife, "I didn't tell him I did, so when he went to work – or _tried _to, at least – he came back with the Daily Prophet in his hand. He was furious."

She chuckled as her son collapsed in fits of laughter. She had never told any of them that story. His mum wasn't a prankster, but the things she did when she was angry just sent the laughter bubbling in James's chest. He could imagine that situation being a comical situation instead of a serious one, with the exception from Harry's perspective.

"He didn't know? Robards, I mean," James asked in surprise. He was sure Robards would have known, and he was right judging by the gleam in his mum's eyes as she nodded.

"He _did _know, but I guess he thought twice about it when he saw the notorious Ginny Weasley step into his office. That, and, I don't think he'd be keen on having bogeys beating him over the head." She winked arrogantly as James shook his head. He knew she was only saying that. But nevertheless, Ginny rolled her eyes as she finished with, "That wasn't the first time I sent your dear father riling. He isn't hard to anger if you know where to shoot the nail."

"I'll bear that in mind next time I see him." He said, laughing when she feigned a snarl towards him, gesturing mockingly with a clawed hand as James snickered. She then drew him in an embrace, and he leaned against her as she whispered softly, "But he loves you. You, Al, and Lily," she tilted her head and smiled reassuringly at the lingering doubt present on his features, "I promise." He smiled weakly in return, leaning against her as they fell silent once again.

And suddenly, he heard his mother slap a hand against her forehead as she muttered. "We've left them waiting," she said concernedly, looking towards him to ask, "Ready to go in?" James nodded, and she returned it. Standing up, she reached out a hand to help him on his feet, and James noticed how blurry his vision had gotten due to his lethargy. Nevertheless, they entered the cabin without another thought.

And the sight lighted James's solemn mood as he studied the scene in the cabin. They were greeted by a carefree scene, and his father was laughing from his place at a small desk. His father was sitting with a parchment smoothed out in front of him and a Quill hovering slightly over the parchment. He must have been in the middle of writing when Hagrid had introduced a topic, and with the soothing orange glow and the flickering fireplace, the sight made James feel at home.

Hagrid, however, was behind a small cabinet, pulling mugs and silverware out, chatting animatedly with Harry as set about his work, and they both snapped their heads towards the visitors, both smiling at the sight.

"Oh, don' worry 'bout us, yeh didn' take long a' all." Hagrid teased, eliciting chuckles from the both of them as they both peered sheepishly at him. Harry, however, didn't bother stifling his chuckle as he shook his head and ducked towards the parchment again, engrossing himself in his work.

"Sorry, Hagrid." They chorused guiltily. Hagrid shook his head amusedly.

"Here, I'll help," Ginny maneuvered around Harry, and as she did, she turned towards to ask genuinely with a furrow in her eyebrows, still engrossed in her goal, "What are you writing?" And Harry adjusted his glasses as he peered up at her with an expected look.

"Sending Mum a letter," he said succinctly, grimacing slightly as he twirled the Quill with his fingers. She, in turn, awarded him with an amused look while he adopted a slight concerned look as his eyes flickered back and forth between his wife and son, "Is everything alright?"

James amusedly thought that Harry's curiosity couldn't be helped. He had wanted to see how long his father could stifle his concern for what they had been doing, but it didn't seem to work.

"Fine," Ginny said airily, yet humor was present in her tone as she waved her hand in a gesture. She then successfully approached Hagrid – who gave her a mutual concerned glance, she added, "Everything's fine."

The two then nodded their heads, resuming their work, with Hagrid having company as James, too, decided to join his mum and Hagrid. There was nothing else to do, anyway, but nevertheless, his mother and Hagrid smiled at him as they piled the plates on his arm so he could set them on the coffee table. But as he returned towards them, a mug was suddenly shoved into his hand by Hagrid, and James peered confusedly. He didn't drink tea. "Give this ter yer dad, eh?"

James nodded in understanding, and turned to approach his father, who was focused in his work, oblivious to his surroundings. He took a moment to study his father as he thought that this was a great time to prank his dad, but he thought twice about it. And anyway, the joke might be backfired on him, as he was the one clutching the mug. Sighing in disappointment, James approached his father and tugged on his robes. Harry snapped his head up in surprise as James handed him the mug, causing his father to smile and ruffle his hair, saying. "Thanks."

James smiled, feeling significantly lighter as he returned towards his mum and Hagrid, and together, they set up the table as Harry stood up to walk towards a window, with Hagrid recalling their conversation again. "Yeh do know where he went, Harry. Do yeh?"

Harry turned to face Hagrid, shrugging his shoulders and lifting his hands in a gesture, and James was curious at what they were talking about. It had to be funny, for Hagrid sounded exceptionally amused. "No idea. He just _left _without telling anyone," Harry then snapped his head to the side at the sound of a hoot, and James realized in delight, that it was the ever-faithful Hedwig again. He watched as his father approached her while continuing to converse with Hagrid, with a breath of a laugh slipping out of him, "You can bet he's up to trouble. I mean, it'd be news if he wasn't." Hagrid laughed while Ginny and James glanced each other bemusedly, yet amusedly, and Ginny shrugged, rolled her eyes, and turned back to her work.

Harry, meanwhile, was in the middle of tying the parchment onto Hedwig's leg, and James watched how tactful his father was. And despite Harry bearing the title of his father, James was convinced that he didn't love his father for that sole reason. He liked Harry for himself, not as Harry Potter, not as the Head of the Auror Department, not even as his father. He loved Harry for his altruistic nature, for his carefreeness, his unique ability to laugh even though he had suffered so much. He liked that Harry was gentle, that he had flaws, but still remained strong, both mentally and physically.

He couldn't have asked for a better father.

And as the three finished their work, James chose to sit and rest for a while, particularly before he collapsed with exhaustion. He irritatingly thought that no one would let him sleep, just for five minutes, so he could chase the exhaustion away. But alas, that didn't seem to be the case as he sank onto a couch by the fireplace. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment before rapidly blinking them open when he heard a hoot and a flutter of wings, and when he looked up, he saw his dad clutching his mug of tea, leaning against the back of the couch, simply watching him with a knowing smile.

James resisted the urge to cover his face with a pillow. He knew he looked like a train wreck waiting to happen.

But, with his lethargy, his irritable mood increased at the sight of his dad's smile. He half-glared at his father as he maneuvered around the couch to plop himself beside James, tilting his head as he asked benevolently, yet softly. "You alright?"

Once again, James felt himself growing guilty for glaring at his father, who always seemed to ask the right questions. He desperately wanted to tell Harry that he wasn't alright, that the burden on his chest was heavy, and that he wanted to rid of it as soon as possible, but glancing discreetly towards his father, who was studying him meticulously, he realized that there could be a better time. Nodding, he mumbled. "Yeah."

And Harry shook his head disappointedly, as if knowing that his son was hiding something, and James heard his father sigh as he averted his eyes away from him, but James, despite himself, couldn't miss an opportunity as he sat up noticeably. "You . . . sent a letter to Gran, didn't you?"

James nearly grinned when he spotted Harry furrowing his eyebrows bemusedly, but after a moment, he seemed to understand why James had labeled his mother as Gran, and with a second's notice, James watched as Harry frowned, looking down on his mug as he confirmed suspiciously. "Yes . . .?" Harry's flickered back and forth between his mug and James, who was biting his lip, stifling a laugh, as Harry brought the cup towards his lips, and scoffed, "Laugh, laugh." He frowned at the sight of James doubled over laughing, adding – at just the right time, "At least I didn't spend nearly as much time with her as you did with yours."

And that effectively shut James up, and he glared at his father, who was looking downright pretentious. But since Harry could take a joke, James supposed he could take advantage of that as he ever-so-subtly nudged his dad's arm, nearly slipping the tea in the process. Harry glared when James crawled over to the other side of the couch, all-too-late as he felt a burst of water meeting his face, and James would have been convinced his father was innocent, judging by his unconcerned look, but he could see the slight tug on his lip indicating that he had not been innocent at all.

James couldn't help but laugh as he dried his face.

And – good timing – the two heard the others finish their work as Hagrid took his place on a couch across from them, and Ginny, setting a towel down nearby, joined her husband and son on the couch. James was forced to shift towards his father again, who smirked at the sight of him, and as Ginny took her place, James shifted closer to her and buried his head in her robes as he mumbled in a gloomy tone. "Mum, Dad's hurting me."

Ginny looked amused as she humored him by placing a hand on his messy hair and fluffing it, glaring at Harry, who was raising his hands defensively as Hagrid chuckled at the scene. "How could you, Harry? He's your son." Ginny scolded, and James peeked his eyes towards his father, who was looking slightly outraged, yet amused.

"You mean _your _son?" Harry fired back, and with an air of disinterested casualness as he lifted his mug to his lips and stole a sip, leaving Ginny gaping, oblivious to the giggling James muffling the sound in her robes. Hagrid, however, intervened.

"I'd have ter agree with tha', too, Ginny," Hagrid said, and Harry grinned as James emerged from his mum's robes to eye her reaction, "Tha' boy's not left a Galleon unturned." And James feigned a bow, eliciting laughs from the males.

Ginny, however, pouted, and leaned back against the couch, feigning offense as she turned to frown at her son. "I can't decide if that's good or bad, taking after me," she seemed to muttering to herself, and James grinned at her next statement, "I mean, I don't go around pulling pranks or – or causing trouble – and," and her eyes drifted towards the males in the room, she muttered, jutting her head away, "Oh, shut up."

"Look on the bright side, Mum," James piped up suddenly, saying with a serious look on his face while his mother turned to face him with a flaming eyebrow raised, eager to hear him out, "At least you didn't send a herd of Hippogriffs tromping down the Great Hall during Lucy's O.W.L exam?"

And the comment was successful as the room filled with laughter, and his mother was doubled over, recalling the scene all too well. The professors had investigated the case for weeks to find the cause of it, but James and Fred had struggled to keep his features neutral in classes and when they heard their professors talking about them. Lucy, however, being the intuitive smart one, yet strict, had bellowed their eardrums out, promising vengeance. Sadly though, she didn't keep her promise. She didn't seem to know what to do, but James and Fred had been grinning the whole time.

"She was furious," Ginny said in between her laughter, addressing Harry, who had missed out on many things, as Hagrid's laughter filled the room, dominating their own, "She's just like Percy, I swear. Imagine doing something like that to a female Percy," she shook her head in amusement, "The results would be terrifying."

"Or Hermione," Hagrid added, his laughs now mitigating into chuckles, and James agreed. He loved his aunt Hermione, he did, but he much preferred her company when Ron was around as well, as he seemed to draw out her humor and jokes easily, but he didn't quite know what his father and Hermione were like together. He would have never expected for someone like Hermione enjoying the company of someone like Harry. He guessed he would have to wait and see.

But they had been best friends, hadn't they? In fact, they had been so close that others had been labeling as them as a couple, in which both denied firmly. But James shuddered at the thought of them as a couple. He much preferred Ron with Hermione. His uncle knew how to handle a strict person like her, especially with his type of humor and enthusiasm.

And as James and his mother continued to converse along with Hagrid, after a moment, James noticed that their phantom-like companion was, apparently, vowing his silence, instead, merely watching and smiling respectfully when necessary. James felt his jolly mood dim significantly as he noticed how quiet his father was. He had seen this type of behavior displayed in his brother Albus, but due to his vast amount of cousins, his brother had gradually loosened a bit and had started shedding his exaggerated introverted side whenever necessary, but his father . . . well, James missed hearing his voice already.

James, at last, understood his father's strategy. He would surround himself with extraverts, like Ginny, and since they liked to rant on, he didn't necessarily have to pry in, instead, choosing to keep his silence and listen intently. James realized that Harry must be a thorough listener if he had adopted such an efficient strategy. It only made the boy more eager to blow his dad's eardrums with his own confessions, but James didn't forget that, with that advantage, comes consequences as well. James guessed that his father's social skills weren't really the best.

In fact, James still felt he was missing a large part of his father's life, rendering him to think that they were still somewhat strangers. James noticed – with mild irritation – that Harry had distracted him with humor and jokes and had left a large part of him concealed, but Harry was just so laidback and funny that, James relented reluctantly, he had _wanted _to be distracted from daunting thoughts. He didn't like to dwell in misery, and he felt both irritated and grateful at his father, who was currently smiling as he listened to his wife's conversation with Hagrid.

His father had become such an abstruse subject to his young mind. He didn't understand what it was about his father that had immediately comforted him. Perhaps it was his father's unique ability to vanish the cloud of worry in his chest, or the warm feeling of security whenever he was nearby. Now that Harry had finally become a part of his life, James thought he could never leave him. He was smiles. He was comfort. He was security.

The thought of his father leaving him was enough to nearly drive him to his tears. He dearly hoped that he had him figured out, with the exception of the temper part. He hoped Harry was as loyal as others accolade him to be.

James forced in a shaky breath, hoping no one in the room noticed anything, before inadvertently stretching his hand out to grasp his father's, which was resting next to James's. Harry had his other arm leaning against the armrest, and when he felt James's hand sink into his own, he turned to eye him in concern, furrowing his eyebrows. James tried smiling reassuringly, hoping his father didn't detect any suspicious behavior, but Harry merely pinned him with a searching look, elicited a small smile in return, and reverted his attention back to the conversation, and James sighed in relief.

But – unbeknownst to James – Harry had mentally stowed a note away to speak with his son soon.

James decided to distract his anxiety by, too, reverting his attention back to the conversation with Hagrid and his mother. He realized they were reminiscing about old times, and James finally realized why Harry was so eager to listen in.

They were talking about the time when James and Lily had nearly drove their brother mad when they had hid in Hagrid's hut, causing Albus and his hair to run wilder than usual. He had searched everywhere: from the common room, to the Great Hall, and even going as far as the dungeons, but couldn't find them. The end result was so worth it when Albus had finally resorted to calling their mother, and it wasn't until after she had arrived had James and Lily emerged, collapsed on their hands and knees with laughter. Albus, however, didn't speak with them for nearly two days.

And Merlin, those days had been fun.

But as James cast a surreptitious glance at his father, he realized that it hadn't felt quite complete without him, for he hadn't been there when James's loose tooth had wounded up in his pumpkin juice. He hadn't been there when both Albus and Ginny had incessantly curled up on the couch until Albus could finally read on his own. He hadn't been there when they had Flooed their uncle Ron to get Lily down from a tree she had been gallant enough to climb, but cowardly enough to get down. He hadn't been there when they had had their family gatherings, or occasionally, picnics where they pulled pranks, joked from every corner, and basically slept on each other in the middle of conversations. He hadn't been there when his wife had occasionally cried herself to sleep. Moreover, he hadn't been there for the children to tackle him down when he got home from work.

But only now did James take the time to notice, that the absence had taken a toll on Harry as well.

Only now did James bother to look at it from his father's perspective. His close friends were virtually strangers, with different routines, different traits that were born from parenthood or elderly. His wife and children were foreign to him, and James finally understood why his father would occasionally zone out or have the impression of a lost puppy getting familiar with its exotic environment. He understood why, at times, James felt like his father was a Legilmens with his searching looks, or when he fell unpredictably silent. He was trying to adapt, and James tightened his hand in Harry's as he took the time to study his father without shame of getting caught.

Harry's guilt, expertly concealed by the owner, was clearly shedding its distress across his father's features, and with the firelight flickering, they stood out distinctly. James could easily spot the visible bags under his father's bright eyes. He could see the faint crease in his eyebrows, indicating his incessant worrying. From the way that he was looking towards the fireplace, lost in his misery as he endeavored to listen to the conversation without reminiscing over his guilt. But James, despite his father leaving him, acutely wanted to rid him of his mourning.

He didn't deserve to be blamed.

He didn't deserve the grating burden to be tossed on his shoulders again, not when he was supposed to be happy with Voldemort gone, with his friends and family finally together again, when people all around the world were chanting his name as a hero. James didn't want to see his father like this. He could see right through his façade to know that Harry was drowning in his guilt; it was visible, but not. James knew that his mother and her side of the family would never blame Harry for something as inevitable as death, and James instinctively knew that Lily and Albus would never blame him, either.

He reckoned that his father was his own enemy, and James nearly chuckled at the thought.

But as James buried himself in his dreary thoughts, he inadvertently sank back into the couch between his parents. It was amazing how comfortable he felt, sandwiched between his mother and – finally – father. He had always yearned for simple moments like this, nothing exaggerated, just simple. And as the comfortable smell of the rusty cabin filled his senses, the soothing voice of his mother gently lulled him, and the warm presence of his father overwhelmed him, he could feel his consciousness gently fading as he curled his arm around his father's, drowsily laying his head on his dad's arm. He didn't see his father's smile.

Harry seemed to have a grudge with affection, James noticed irritatingly as he reluctantly released his father's arm. His father had been trying to break his arm free from James's tight clutch, and James had nearly groaned, wondering how on earth was he going to find another comfortable spot. But as James finished yawning and began rubbing his eyes, he felt a firm arm snake around his shoulders and pull him close to the owner. James curled up against his father's side, relishing in the presence of a father.

It felt so surreal.

James – once again – felt his father was too good of a dream for him to wake up to. Consequently, James tried to distract himself with his father's hand. He couldn't help the habit, but things as insignificant as hands were interesting to him, and with a jolt, James realized that his father was still wearing his wedding band. James had remembered seeing it in his parents' wedding pictures, but he had heard of all the troubles it had caused Harry in his missions; he had reckoned that Harry might have abandoned it, but that didn't seem to be the case.

And so, with heavy lids, James continued to fiddle with his dad's wedding band, twirling it slowly as he endeavored to refrain his sniff. He heard a deep chuckling coming from Hagrid. It seemed that both him and his mother had fallen silent at the exchange between James and his father.

"Yer kids have been good, Harry, a bit wild, but that's expected, innit?" Hagrid started, and with a jolt, James heard his voice waver slightly as the emotions reached his voice, but James didn't lift his head. He knew how easy it was to get Hagrid emotional, and only then had James remembered that his father and Hagrid had been close friends, too, "Came to ter visit every weekend, they did. Always askin' abou' their dad. Told 'em he was a thumpin' good wizard, one of the bes' ou' there," James finally chanced a glance at Hagrid and watched sorrowfully as his eyes drenched in tears. All those years had passed and no one could seem to forget Harry Potter, "Yeh've been missed, Harry."

But James heard no response from his father, but felt his mother stand up, heard her rummage through a cabinet, and pull a handkerchief out for Hagrid and hand it to him. Hagrid, in turn, thanked her. She smiled in return before reverting back to her position, looking quite solemn herself, but still, Harry remained silent. Though, James could feel his father taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. It wasn't a shaky breath, but James guessed it took great deal of effort to get his father emotional.

"I remember – once – little Albus comin' to complain how everyone's sayin' he looks like his dad," Hagrid continued, wiping the tears away, but they continued to fall into his hairy beard, "Told 'em he did, an' that he should be proud o' it, but he jus' muttered that it was gettin' old. I remembered you sayin' somethin' like that, Harry. Same age, too. For a moment the'e, I though' you had gotten a time turner or somethin' and came back," and James thought the confession had paid off when he heard his father chuckle quietly, but still, kept his silence, "Yeh'd think yer twins or somethin', but Al didn't get the glasses. Fer the better or worse, I dunno."

In his lethargic state, James grinned tiredly as he watched Hagrid's beetle eyes twinkle as he, in turn, glanced at James's mother, who was smiling in humor as well. Indeed, the three children hadn't inherited their father's – or grandfather's – poor sight at all. No one but Lily, who couldn't read without glasses, but James reckoned that was probably a result of old age, not genetics. James peeked subtly through his eyelashes at his father, wondering how he would react to that, but his father was merely adjusting his glasses self-consciously, a small reluctant smile tugging on his lips.

Then, for better timing, Ginny piped up, nodding seriously whilst grinning. "For the better, I think." And Hagrid nodded in agreement. Harry merely shook his head in defeat.

But James, finally deciding to surrender to the depravity of sleep, was halfway to end of his journey when he suddenly startled at Hagrid's next statement. He felt his heart fighting to break free from its dark cell when Hagrid said something that James hadn't had the courage to voice aloud, even if it would assuage his anxiety. It was simply too personal for his dad to answer. But James guessed that the main reason why he hadn't quite gathered the courage to ask it was because he had feared the answer.

"Whole lot of 'em got by strong and standin'," said Hagrid, his voice full of pride as he stared at Harry, who had shifted his hand to James's hair and was stroking the locks absentmindedly with his thumb when he froze and snapped his eyes up at the next statement, oblivious to James's dreary thoughts, "Yeh'd been proud, Harry."

And finally, after a moment of anticipation, the smile reached Harry's eyes as he said, strongly and firmly. "I am." And James relaxed significantly, confident that now he would be able to rest in peace as he shut his eyes, willing the tears away. This was what he had been anticipating. Just an affirmation, that's all. He clutched his father's robes tightly as he gradually escaped reality. He didn't care about anything else anymore. He just wanted to sleep in his father's embrace.

And fate seemed to mock him again. Once again, he was startled awake when he felt a feathery-like hand gently patting his face, and he huffed irritatingly, refusing to be awakened so soon (he didn't sleep at all). He buried his face into his dad's robes, turning away from his mother's amused expression. But she was as stubborn as he was.

She knelt down on her knees in front of the couch, met Harry's amused eyes, and stuck a finger near her son's neck, knowing his weak spots. In response, he flinched away from it, refusing to lift up his head. Ginny continued determinedly until she finally got the reaction she was expecting. James couldn't stifle a reluctant giggle but merely muffled it with his father's robes. He hated when she did that.

"James?" his mother said softly, humor in her tone as she endeavored to break him out his shell, "Wake up, Jamie, we're going home." And James frowned, his lethargic state struggling to catch up with reality. Where were they?

Then, James felt an arm around him shake his shoulder gently in an attempt to wake him up, and suddenly, James heard a deep voice muttering his name as well, and it sounded eerily familiar, like the voice of a long lost friend.

"James?" Harry implored, removing his arm to grab his son by the shoulders and lift him to sit up, "Come on, James. Get up." And James squinted his eyes, blinked excessively for a moment before rubbing his eyes in shock.

His eyes really weren't deceiving him. They really were there. His mother was really kneeling down in front of the couch with her bright red-hair blending prettily with the firelight, and his father . . .

His father was tilting his head slightly to check if he was awake. His bright green eyes were consumed with concern, and his messy black-hair was sticking all over the place as his locks imitated a falling motion. James couldn't quite see his dad's eyes, for the fireplace nearby was reflecting off his glasses, and only then, did everything dawn on James, and he was finally in tune with his surroundings. Huffing, he felt his face flaming, and the heat had nothing to do with the fireplace as he ducked his head bashfully.

He finally knew where he was.

Still somewhat sluggish, James mustered a glare as he heard his mother chuckle at his obvious dismay. She waited until he had sat back on his knees before springing up and saying – much to James's irritation – rather cheerfully and loudly. "This one's a hand full, don't you agree, Hagrid?" However, rather reluctantly, James permitted a small grudging smile to cross his lips at her comment. She always seemed to cheer him up somehow.

Then, suddenly, James heard a slight rustling beside him, and he peered up confusedly when his father stood up, stretching and yawning as he, too, drove the drowsiness out his system. James couldn't help but feel amused at the normality, and when he caught his eye, Harry stretched out a hand to help him off the couch, raising his eyebrow when James snorted amusedly, for after every few seconds, Harry kept yawning.

"Naw, he's alrigh', aren't you, James?" Hagrid said, standing up to bid them all farewells, first one being Ginny as she laughed and leaned in to embrace him, and only then did James notice how small and petite his mother was, but he guessed that wasn't really a fair comparison on both parts.

But nevertheless, James grinned tiredly as his mother leaned away from Hagrid to allow her son a chance to bid him goodbye as well. He walked towards Hagrid and stuck his hand out, flashing his signature grin simultaneously as Hagrid elicited a booming laugh as he shook the boy's hand, and James stifled his wince (he had forgotten he was little) when he felt a particular bone fly off its course, but nevertheless, he kept his smile as they simultaneously shuffled out the door.

And finally, as they greeted the fresh air, Harry turned towards Hagrid, and James – and Ginny apparently – silently agreed to give the two some room to talk as they walked out towards the dim night, but not far, just enough so they gave the impression that they weren't eavesdropping or anything of the sort. James glanced surreptitiously towards his mother, only find her with her hands deep into the pockets of her robes, head bowed towards the ground, looking uncharacteristically solemn that James felt his mood dim expectedly as he reverted his attention back to his father.

It looked as if Hagrid was scolding Harry, and James nearly chuckled at the irony. With only the faint light of the open door reflecting on both of their features, James could see that his father was looking overwhelmingly guilty as he ducked his head, refusing to meet Hagrid's eyes, and James was dying with curiosity (again, the irony). He had never known that Hagrid and his father were this close to where both had no trouble exposing their weak sides, and James admired how Harry always seemed to choose the best people. Hagrid had to be one of the top.

He couldn't help but continue to watch as Harry didn't back down, but instead, tried reasoning with Hagrid, and in the end, Hagrid seemed to emerge victorious as Harry shook his head in defeat and sighed, looking thoroughly guilty again before glancing slightly towards his son and wife. For a moment, they both fell silent. Then, Harry breathed deeply, reverted his attention to Hagrid, and reached out a hand, smiling shamefully as Hagrid, too, smiled, and patted him on the back, leading Harry back to his family. Ginny finally snapped out of her daze and looked up, smiling at the sight of her husband.

"That went well, I s'pose?" she said expectedly, and James eyed her suspiciously. He wondered if it was just the girl mood-swings thing or his mother was just a master at deception. She had only been solemn a moment ago. Now, she sounded herself again.

Harry shrugged in response, looking – to James's amusement – unbelievably sulky as he approached them. The family then turned to wave at Hagrid, promising to visit soon, and Hagrid grinned and waved back before turning around and disappearing inside his cabin. James yawned as the two engaged in conversation, momentarily forgetting that their son was dead on his feet, or that the sky was as dark as ink. And he, in turn, couldn't muster the strength to tell them to Apparate.

He was _tired_.

And after a moment, Ginny suddenly halted, both in speech and physically. She felt like something was missing, and indeed, some_one _was missing, and dread filled her heart.

"James?"

She abruptly turned to eye every corner of the forest, ready to tear every tree, branch, and limb to find her son, and she didn't even register that no harm could come to him, anyway. He was already dead. But, Ginny, forcing herself calm, pierced every corner of the forest with her eyes when she suddenly startled at the faint sound of her husband's voice.

"Ginny, you'd better come see this." Harry said, humor in his tone, and Ginny, confused, turned on her heels and walked towards the direction of his voice. As she walked past the tree concealing her vision, her – what others would perceive as – _tough _heart melted at the sight that greeted her.

He hadn't been joking around when he had incessantly hinted at his lethargy. Indeed, her son was standing in the middle of the circumference, to all, asleep while standing, but Ginny could guess that it was only temporary until he woke up. She chuckled fondly as she met Harry's eyes, who was grinning at the sight. She realized there was no way out of this as she watched Harry kneel in front of James and lifted him up, and James startled for a moment before relaxing immediately in the embrace. He buried his face near his father's neck, at last, recognizing the embrace.

The arms wrapped around him were suddenly familiar as he drowsily recalled a timid memory that had finally emerged. He remembered his dad, despite being small at the time. He remembered the embrace, the feeling, and the lulling thought was last thing on his mind as he felt the darkness enfolding, and he finally shut his eyes.

* * *

**A/N**: What ya doin' here? Oh, right. Anyway, tell me if ya wiked dis chapter ('cuz I, surprisingly, did. Dis story's still isn't finished yet, and I am sincerely sorry to say this, but . . . escuela (or school) is startin' next week, and I'm gonna be super busy, so I urge y'all to be patient, 'cuz you're not the only one who wants to know what's next, I do, too.

I don't know when I'll be publishing again, but it's gonna be a while. Again, I will finish this story. In the meantime, enjoy this extra long chapter for now. And again, please leave a comment about characterizations, grammar, dialogue.

I'm guessing dis story was inspired by my current obsession with psychology. No, really, I'm obsessed. Look at my hair. (Hah)

Again, apologies in advance. Until next time.

Oh, and happy belated birthday, Harry! (And JK) ;)

**Review**.


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